


Two Step

by feelslikefire



Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Domestic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-04-27 15:18:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 67,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5053762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feelslikefire/pseuds/feelslikefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wild Tiger and Barnaby Brooks Jr. have reunited after their year apart, much to the relief of almost all parties involved. But when an obsessed NEXT starts stalking them and making extravagant demands, Kotetsu and Barnaby are forced to pretend to be engaged to stall for time until they can apprehend their enemy. </p><p>Or: "Hey, I've never written a fake relationship OR a Tiger & Bunny fic. Maybe I should do something about that." 66,000 words later...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **On a few canon things** : When I was writing this fic, I (stupidly) hadn't seen either the very end of the series OR either of the movies. As of right now, I've finished the series (and read a metric buttload of doujinshi!) but still have yet to see either of the movies. So Golden Ryan is Sir Not Appearing In this Fic, and because I didn't know when I wrote it that Ben would come back as T&B's boss, I didn't write him in either. I then started nursing school and didn't feel like re-tooling large chunks of a 60,000-word fic, so I slapped a fix-it on it and HERE YOU GO. 
> 
> **This fic is finished!** It is being beta'd and edited, and will be posted one chapter a week till it's done. I will post it on Thursdays of each week, unless I get waylaid by zombies or something. Then it'll be posted on Friday.
> 
>  My darling and best-beloved beta [circ_bamboo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/circ_bamboo/pseuds/circ_bamboo) read over this for me despite having seen only 1.5 episodes of the series, and the delightful Crapsuit (on Twitter) also agreed to look over it for me! Thanks ladies!

The funny thing was, up until they got the page to come deal with the rogue NEXT on the west side of town, Kotetsu had been having a wonderful day. It was truly amazing how quickly a good day could turn bad.

“Don’t space out on me now, old man,” said Barnaby.

“Shut up, I’m _thinking_ ,” Kotetsu snapped, peevish. 

“I knew I smelled something burning.”

“Yeah, what’s left of our dignity.”

Barnaby shot him a dirty look (Kotetsu could tell, even with the visor in place). He was trussed up just like Kotetsu was, both of them in their Hero suits and tangled hopelessly in the weird alien webbing that had erupted from the nondescript little boxes set out all over the room. The boxes looked like nothing so much as Roombas that had vomited silly string—if silly string was as strong as carbon fiber and stuck tenaciously to every surface as though cemented in place. 

Both of them had already used their Hundred Power, because technically they had _already apprehended_ the rogue NEXT, and had just been going through the catacomb of warehouses on this street to help flush out any remaining minions and dangerous traps. Technically, setting off the webbing boxes was part of that job, which meant they had to wait around until either their Hundred Powers had recharged or someone came with the tech to get them out. That was all well and good (if annoying), but then their wrist pagers went off and Agnes’s brusque voice was in their ears.

“ _Heroes! The suspect you apprehended is an impostor, she just confessed everything. The criminal is still at large, report back—_ ”

“Shit,” said Kotetsu, much louder than he meant to.

“We’re coming,” Barnaby said, with a confidence that was at least as exasperating as it was inspiring. “Send us coordinates, we’ll head right over.”

“Oh, did Bunny grow a pair of pizza cutters in place of his arms? That’s wonderful!” Once again Kotetsu tried to yank his arm away from where it was shellacked to the wall. It did not budge even a centimeter. Kotetsu cursed under his breath again. 

“This is ridiculous,” Barnaby said loudly. “Here, aim your laser cannon this way, and—”

“I can’t even move my arm, how am I supposed to aim anything?”

“Ah yes, the great Hero team, back in action again.” A new voice spoke up from the end of the room, behind Kotetsu’s back, back the way they had come into the warehouse. Kotetsu snapped to attention. He strained to turn his head enough to see behind him, but the NEXT—Kotetsu didn’t know that for sure of course, but who else could it be?—was standing where they couldn’t be seen. “I was hoping I’d catch you here.”

“Keep them talking. Blue Rose and Fire Emblem are on their way here now.” Barnaby’s low, urgent voice was inside Kotetsu’s helmet, right in his ear, the barely-there whisper he used when he wanted to use the comms inside their helmets and not be overheard. 

“What do you want?” Kotetsu asked, warily. He could hear the sound of slow footsteps, echoing off the walls and ceilings of the cavernous warehouse they were in. The building hadn’t been used in easily ten years, thick with dust and grime accumulated from the wet fog that rolled in off the convergence of the rivers that flanked Sternbild City. 

The NEXT chuckled. Instinctively, Kotetsu glanced across the room at his partner, wishing that Barnaby’s faceplate was up so that Kotetsu could see his expression, try to better guess what Barnaby was planning, but he might as well have been staring at the brick wall. Even if he wasn’t, Barnaby was still trapped in place just like Kotetsu was.

“I want a lot of things,” the NEXT said, his tone conversational. “But what I specifically want from _you_ is for you to stop lying to everyone about your relationship.”

Kotetsu had his mouth open to fire off some quip—something about bullies and criminals never getting their way—but at this his mouth snapped shut. He felt the _crack_ in his jaw of his teeth colliding too hard together, and winced, but his attention was still back at that completely out-of-the-blue comment. 

“Our relationship?” Barnaby repeated. He sounded as flat-footed as Kotetsu felt. 

“Don’t play dumb with me,” said the NEXT, his tone abruptly harsh, the ease vanishing like smoke in a stiff breeze. “You think you’ve been so clever, that no one can tell, but you can’t fool me. I thought you were supposed to be big heroes who stand up for what’s right, but here you are lying to everyone!”

“Uh,” said Kotetsu. He looked at Barnaby. “Do you know what they’re talking about?”

“I SAID STOP LYING!” shrieked the NEXT. A wave of percussive force swept through the room, making Kotetsu vibrate inside his hero suit, his ears ringing and his eyes watering as the weird webbing holding them in place reverberated with energy.

“Tiger!” Barnaby’s voice, urgent. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine! What the hell was that?” Kotetsu winced, shaking his head a little to try to clear his vision. 

“That was one of my sonic bombs,” said the NEXT, the deranged malice gone again from his voice as if it had never been there at all. “Just a little one. I make them myself. They’re so elegant. And the best part is they can do so much damage and you’ll never even see it coming.”

“Sound waves,” Barnaby said slowly. “That’s what those bombs are we kept finding.”

“Correct,” said the NEXT. “But you won’t be able to find them without my help, because they don’t look like anything at all. And there are soooo many more where that one came from. I have them hidden all over the city.”

He said this quite cheerfully, as if he was telling Kotetsu and Barnaby the weather, a vicious contrast to the way Kotetsu’s blood suddenly ran cold. “You’ve hidden bombs all over the city,” Barnaby repeated. His voice was strained. A quick glance confirmed the way his hands were bunched into fists, barely able to restrain himself. “All this just because of us?”

“I’m your biggest fan, you know,” said the NEXT. “I have all of your interviews, Bar-na-by. And yours too, Tiger. All the photos and TV spot and ads. I’ve seen every episode of Hero TV either of you have been in. You really inspire people, you know that? You do so much good. And you help make people understand that just because we’re different, doesn’t mean we’re evil. You give hope to all the other NEXTs. It took me awhile to realize that you were putting up a front. I have to give you that much credit, you’re good at hiding it.”

Kotetsu shivered. He could feel goosebumps humping painfully all over his skin, like someone had poured cold water down his spine. He was starting to think that he and Bunny had badly underestimated both how dangerous and how unhinged this guy was—not to mention what he actually wanted.

He glanced at the clock inside his suit; another seven minutes before they’d be able to reactivate their NEXT powers and break free.

“But you shouldn’t lie,” the NEXT continued. “You really shouldn’t lie. It’s wrong. So I figured I had to make you pay attention somehow. You owe it to the fans to be honest with us.”

“About our relationship,” Barnaby said. “Well. You know. We’re… we’re private people. We have to keep something to ourselves.”

Kotetsu’s head snapped up. He stared across the room at Barnaby, wishing for the second time in five minutes that he could see his partner’s face. _What are you doing?_ he hissed into the mic.

 _Trust me,_ came back the barely-heard whisper. 

“We have an image to keep up,” Kotetsu said, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. 

It was the wrong thing to say. Another wave of percussive energy erupted, and Kotetsu cried out in pain as it shattered through his suit, his skull and jaw aching with the force of the vibration. He sagged, gritting his teeth as the throbbing followed after; he was closer to the NEXT than Barnaby was, and judging by the alarmed voice in his ear, Kotetsu had gotten the brunt of it, at least this time. 

“You have an image to keep up,” repeated the NEXT. His voice had gone higher-pitched, straining under the force of his poorly-contained rage. “Your _precious_ image of two buddy Heroes. Pah!”

Kotetsu shook his head, straightening up once more. He checked the timer; four minutes till they could power up again. “You still haven’t told us what you actually want us to do,” Barnaby said loudly. Something in his voice made Kotetsu glance over, and he couldn’t have said what it was specifically about his partner’s posture that told him, but he knew, _knew_ that Barnaby was preparing to do something stupid. 

_That’s my job,_ Kotetsu thought, and opened his mouth.

“No, they already told us,” he said quickly. “They want us to come forward with our relationship.”

The tension in the air, which had moments ago been as heavy and thick as the front before a storm, relaxed. “That’s right,” said their rogue NEXT. He sounded downright pleasant now. “I want everyone to know that you’re a couple. It’s important for Heroes to be honest about these things.”

“Absolutely,” said Barnaby, because Kotetsu’s mouth had fallen open and he was literally incapable of speech for several seconds due to temporarily choking on his own tongue. “But surely you can understand that with so much of our lives being so public already, the last thing I want to do is share this part of it. And unlike me, Tiger has a family whose privacy he still wants to protect.”

The footsteps came back, the sound fading and then getting louder again, fading and getting louder again—their opponent was pacing, Kotetsu realized abruptly. “I really thought you’d understand,” said the NEXT. The agitation in his voice was sending chills down Kotetsu’s spine. “You’re better than this. You have to be above this. Well, I suppose I will just have to help you.”

 _Help us avoid your crazy face,_ Kotetsu thought. Sixty seconds left. Aloud, he said, “I don’t know why you think blackmail is such a good—”

“Your crime has just been put on hold!”

For several seconds, everything was very confusing.

Kotetsu saw Barnaby move before Blue Rose had even finished speaking; his partner’s eyes were glowing, Barnaby ripping himself away from the wall with an animal yell. The weird webbing clung viciously to Bunny’s flank and legs, but he tore free anyway, launching himself not towards the NEXT at the rear of the room, but at Tiger. “Barnaby!” 

Barnaby slammed into him, the force of his speed carrying him and Kotetsu into the brick wall he was shellacked against, the bricks crumbling beneath their combined weight—and a split-second later the sonic boom hit them both, sending them flying _through_ the remains of the wall and into the next room. Kotetsu hit the ground with a groan, Barnaby on top of him. It took him a few moments of ringing ears and throbbing skull to realize that Barnaby had moved just in time to take the brunt of the blast.

“How did you know I couldn’t power up just yet?” Kotetsu demanded, feeling at once dazed and a little pissed off. 

“I was paying attention,” Barnaby said. 

Kotetsu was going to say something smart (or at least angry), but yelling and the sounds of fighting was now penetrating the ringing in his ears. He grunted, lifting his arms to shove Barnaby off him. Barnaby moved at the same time, trying to haul himself upright, but the movement was arrested by the same elastic goo that had kept them both tied to the wall for the past thirty minutes or so; the explosion had thrown them right on top of a pair of the web-spitting boxes, and now the two of them were all but cocooned together like a spider’s unfortunate prey. Barnaby strained upwards, the gears and servomotors of his suit whining under the stress, only to collapse back against Kotetsu within seconds, gluing them even more tightly together.

“Can’t you rip us out of this?” 

“I can’t get into a strong enough position to get out without crushing you,” Barnaby said. And it was true—in this position, with the added width of their suits, the best he could manage was a cramped bow-legged posture, legs and arms spread too wide to gain any traction. 

“This is really undignified,” Kotetsu muttered. 

“I would think you’d be used to that by now,” observed Barnaby.

“You! So disrespectful!” Kotetsu was close enough to see the fleeting smile on Barnaby’s face, even through his visor. He’d seen it many times before, the flashes of Barnaby’s true self, the one he usually hid beneath a veneer of determined professionalism and pleasant acting. But for whatever reason, today that smile reached into his chest and grabbed hold with a tightness as painful as it was sweet. 

Normally he wouldn’t have cared, but with what that idiot NEXT had just been going on about, he was very, _very_ aware of Barnaby’s weight on top of him, and what else a couple might do in this particular position in another set of circumstances. _Fuck_ , thought Kotetsu, and tried to think of literally anything else. It didn’t work very well. At least they were both in their suits.

They tried several times to rip free of the webbing, straining with all their might, Kotetsu finally able to ignite his Hundred power and adding his own strength, but each time it ended the same. Defeated by the elasticity of the webbing that sent their own strength rebounding back against them, they collapsed back against each other, stuck even more tightly; Kotetsu could feel the bulwark of the suits scraping against each other, stressed from the friction. 

The sounds of fighting in the next room got progressively louder (or at least, their ears steadily recovered from the deafening effects of the blast), but when both of their Hundred Powers had run out yet again, Barnaby finally flopped down against Kotetsu with a disgusted sigh. The one comfort was that the other Heroes had arrived by this point, although apparently so had reinforcements for their opponent.

“What the hell is this stuff?” Kotetsu turned his head, regarding the long off-white strands with distaste. 

“I think it might be the new material Saito was working on,” Barnaby said after a moment. “He mentioned that he wanted something that could withstand our Hundred Power during battle, but he hadn’t perfected it yet.”

“So it was stolen, then. That’s great.” It did make a degree of sense, though; their as-yet unnamed nemesis did say that he was Barnaby and Kotetsu’s biggest fan, and in the insane mental headspace of the sort of stalker-fans that (mostly) Barnaby had, Kotetsu supposed that being on top of Tiger and Barnaby’s tech counted as being a good fan. 

If you were _fucking crazy_ , anyway. 

The battle ended shortly thereafter, Blue Rose finding them in their cocoon of shame and cemented webbing on the ground amidst the rubble of the warehouse wall. Extraction took another twenty minutes after that—Fire Emblem ended up having to incinerate the webbing, and even with the extreme heat of his NEXT abilities, it took a good ten minutes of sweating heavily in the protective armor of the suit before Kotetsu was able to haul himself off the ground, relying more heavily on Barnaby than he wanted to admit. The webbing might have been stolen technology, but either Saito had insane ideas about what threshold their tech needed to surpass, or the webbing had been further modified after it had been stolen.

Turned out there was good news and bad news. The good news, as relayed to them by Agnes via video chat on the way back to the Heroes headquarters, was that they had apprehended all of the minions and associates of their NEXT, as well as deactivated all of their immediate bombs and traps, even taking a few in for analysis by Saito. 

The bad news one was that they still had no fucking idea what the bastard looked like. “All of our pictures are indistinguishable,” said Agnes in disgust. “Blue Rose and Fire Emblem fought this guy for ten minutes and neither of them can give us a solid description. Everything gives us the same image; they might as well have been fighting a cloud of smoke.”

“Is it some kind of illusion?” Barnaby asked. He and Kotetsu were half-in and half-out of their beat-up, charred suits on the ride back to headquarters, safely out of sight of news cameras, the public, and (theoretically) their new nemesis. “Is it related to the sonic energy they can manipulate?”

“We don’t know,” said Agnes. She looked pissed; probably because half of the footage they’d filmed was totally unusable, since it was worthless to show a fight with an enemy you couldn’t see or identify. “Until Jake and Ouroborous, it was thought that every NEXT had just one ability, but now that we know some can have two, we can’t rule anything out.”

“Hell of a time for Ben to take a vacation,” Kotetsu remarked under his breath. That was being obtuse, of course; Ben hadn’t taken a vacation because he wanted to, he’d taken a doctor-ordered vacation with strict orders to relax and not work until he was done with his rehab and his heart condition was more stable. Still, he couldn’t shake the idea that Ben would have had some keen insight for them if he hadn’t been on official hiatus for the time being. 

Kotetsu slouched backwards against the wall of the small jet, his mind wandering. He was only half-listening to the discussion, still distracted by the idea that their rogue NEXT had been so insistent on: that he and Barnaby were secretly in a romantic relationship that they were hiding from everyone. Where on _earth_ had this superfan gotten such a crazy idea?

But the trouble was, after the initial ludicrousness of the idea, it… no longer seemed quite so ludicrous. The more Kotetsu thought about it, the more he could start to maybe see why their stalker had thought such a thing.

He and Barnaby spent an inordinate amount of their time together, after all. Even with Kotetsu in the second league as well as joining up with the first, and both of them busy with Hero and promotional work alike, they still saw more of each other than almost anyone else. Kotetsu had spent the night at Barnaby’s many times (but could the NEXT know that, Kotetsu wondered—what if he did? _That_ was creepy), and they sparred together, trained together, and of course fought together. Kotetsu was closer to Barnaby than to any other person in the world—even his own family, honestly. 

_Who thinks about this kind of thing?_ he wondered, equal parts irritated and bemused. But he couldn’t help but be curious. How did they think the relationship dynamic worked, behind closed doors? Surely they thought Kotetsu was the manly partner; he was the older of the two, after all, Barnaby’s senior. But the idea of Barnaby being the more effeminate partner was weird. Kotetsu wrinkled his nose instinctively as he contemplated it. Barnaby was so attractive as to blur the lines between “beautiful” and “handsome,” but he was definitely very masculine; he was one of the biggest idols in the country, gracing the cover of what seemed like a half-dozen magazines a year. 

Maybe if— “Kotetsu!”

“I’m listening,” he blurted, sitting upright so hard and fast that he cracked his head on a crossbeam. “Ow!”

“Pay attention, Tiger,” said Agnes on the bigscreen, sounding exasperated and not bothering to hide it. 

“You pay attention,” Kotetsu said sullenly.

Kotetsu saw Barnaby’s expression change, his lip twitching ever so slightly. “That doesn’t even make sense,” he said, but his voice was mild. “Either way, Agnes, this person was very serious. He sounded like he was prepared to commit further violence if Tiger and I didn’t agree with him.”

“This is your public image we’re talking about here,” Agnes countered. “You can’t bow to the delusions of one aggressive fan, just because—”

“They said that they planted bombs all over the city,” Kotetsu cut in. “That’s something we should take seriously.”

“We _are_ taking it seriously, we have the second league out collecting information right now and we’re doing everything we can to track them down,” Agnes retorted. She sounded even pissier now. “I don’t make these kinds of decisions, you’ll have to talk to your sponsor about it.”

“We will,” said Barnaby. He and Kotetsu looked at each other, their expressions mutually grim. Kotetsu felt a flush of warmth and relief for the fact that, despite their past differences, he and Barnaby were almost always in sync on the really important things. 

It was one reason they worked so well together. Kotetsu tried not to wonder if there was another reason he hadn’t ever thought about.

* * * * *

Reflecting on it later, Kotetsu wasn’t even sure what he’d thought was going to happen when they talked to Lloyds about the situation. In reality, they never actually got that chance—by the time they got back to headquarters, Lloyds was waiting on the landing pad, his expression grim. “You need to come inside right away,” was all he said, and Kotetsu and Barnaby could do nothing but follow in his wake as they strode back up to Lloyds’s office. Kotetsu got one look at Karina’s and Nathan’s concerned expressions (their other teammates were still on the other side of town, fighting an unrelated break-in) before he was hurrying up the stairs after Barnaby.

“We got a very distressing missive from the NEXT you were out fighting today,” said Lloyds, as Barnaby and Kotetsu came into his office and the door shut behind them. “When Saito went to do maintenance on your suits, this email was waiting in the message inbox.” He reached over and touched a button at the interface on his desk, and a hologram screen popped up against the wall, the message blown up to the size of a poster. Kotetsu scanned the few lines of text, his stomach lodging itself in his throat as he absorbed its contents. Beside him, he heard Barnaby suck in a sharp breath.

_Tiger and Barnaby: I know your secret, and it’s past time for it to be public. Either make your relationship common knowledge by 3 pm tomorrow, or all of the children who are your biggest fans will pay the price. Do the right thing. Enigma._

Neither of them said anything for several seconds. “What do you want us to do?” Barnaby said at last, breaking the silence first.

“We can’t give in to blackmail,” Lloyds said, hesitant. “But we can’t ignore an obvious threat to the public, especially when children are the named targets.”

“We can’t not take this seriously,” Kotetsu said. There was a lead brick in his stomach now; he was picturing Kaede, remembering all too well the awful fear he’d felt the times she’d been in danger, danger because of him. It had woken him up in the middle of the night, that ice-cold hand around his heart, inside his chest, at the thought of his baby girl frightened or pain. He couldn’t do that to anyone, least of all someone else’s child. “This… Enigma has already planted and detonated several of his sonic bombs; he’s clearly willing to do the damage he threatens.”

“We don’t have any guarantee he won’t go ahead and do it anyway even if we give in to his demands,” Barnaby pointed out. He was looking at Kotetsu now, instead of Lloyds, and although Kotetsu could read the tension in the aristocratic lines of his cheekbones and jaw, that was all he could get right now—whatever Barnaby was thinking was totally inscrutable. It made Kotetsu nervous. He didn’t like not knowing what his partner was thinking.

But hearing him play devil’s advocate was just making Kotetsu cranky. “Well, fine,” he said. “We can’t give in to blackmail, but I’m not going to risk children getting hurt, either. Alert the police that there’s a threat to public safety, so that children stay home from school and normal activities tomorrow while we search out possible bombs the best we can. In the meantime, we make a—a public declaration. We don’t say it’s blackmail, we make it sound like our own decision.”

Lloyds was looking at him with an expression that bordered on incredulity, mixed with reluctant admiration. Kotetsu figured he should probably be annoyed, but he was sadly used to people not taking him seriously at this point in his career. “That’s …not a bad idea,” Lloyds said grudgingly. “Barnaby, what do you think?”

“I think Kotetsu is right,” Barnaby said immediately. Kotetsu could feel Barnaby’s eyes on him; he resolutely blocked out the implication of what he’d just suggested, focusing solely on the people he was trying to protect, and how he could best achieve that. “Unless we apprehend this individual somehow in the next eighteen hours, I see no other better options available to us.”

Lloyds sighed. “This is going to destroy your image,” he said, raising a hand to his face and rubbing his temple with the air of the much-put-upon. “We have to figure out the best approach to take.”

“We’ll handle it,” Barnaby said, with a firmness Kotetsu did not quite feel but could not help being heartened by. “We’re Heroes.”

“As long as we can still do our job, that’s what I care about,” Kotetsu added—mostly because he felt like he should say something, and if he kept on acting like this was his idea and he was totally in control, maybe he wouldn’t freak out about it.

Lloyds crossed his arms, glancing from Barnaby to Kotetsu and then shaking his head. “Well, go get cleaned up,” he said. “I’ll discuss it with your sponsors and we’ll get back to you tonight. I doubt anyone else will think of a better way to address the threat, but nothing is official till I’ve sent word.”

“Yes, sir,” chorused Barnaby and Kotetsu. Kotetsu even managed a jaunty little two-finger salute and a grin that was probably twice as cheesy as it felt. It earned him an eyeroll from Lloyds and a genuine smile from Barnaby, though, so it wasn’t a total waste.

The show of confidence lasted all the way through their post-battle showers and debriefing with Saito; the discussion of the stolen tech and its possible uses was interesting enough to distract Kotetsu from the increasingly loud, circling thoughts of _I’m going to have to pretend to be dating Barnaby what the fuck what the **fuck**_.

He made it all the way to their locker room before it really hit him. Kotetsu was changing into his civilian clothes, wondering absently what to make for dinner, when he happened to glance down the aisle towards the next block of lockers and saw Barnaby standing there in just his jeans and bare feet, pulling on his undershirt. The gold chain his partner always wore around his neck caught Kotetsu’s attention, and Kotetsu found himself arrested, staring, frozen directly in the path of the oncoming freight train of anxiety.

And right at the front of that runaway train was the unnerving realization that Kotetsu was all too aware of the fact that of all the people to have to pretend to date, why did it have to be his younger, handsomer, better half?

As if hearing the clamor of Kotetsu’s anxiety pushing at the inside of his skull, Barnaby paused, looking over his shoulder at Kotetsu. Kotetsu’s stomach immediately knotted in on itself. “I thought you left already,” Barnaby said. He sounded exactly as pleasant and composed as he always did. Kotetsu found himself wishing he knew what Bunny was thinking, and kicked himself for being so wound up.

“Nah, I only just finished showering,” he said. “I’m an old man, remember. I’m slow.”

“You’re not that old,” Barnaby said mildly. “Although sometimes you are not as quick on the uptake as I would like.”

“Quicker than you,” Kotetsu retorted, half-instinct and half-genuine irritation. Counterintuitively, the jab relaxed him, and he was able to grab up his own shirt and pull his arms through the sleeves, buttoning it up as he walked over to Barnaby. “What do you think of all this? I’ve never had a stalker before, it’s pretty creepy.”

Barnaby made a face. He finished pulling his shirt over his head before answering, meticulously tucking it into his pants as he chose his words. “I’ve had a couple of fans that crossed a line into what you might call stalking, or at least obsession, but never to this degree,” he said. “It is certainly unpleasant.”

“Understatement of the year,” muttered Kotetsu.

“I have to say I was very impressed at you volunteering like you did,” Barnaby continued. He looked up at Kotetsu, his green eyes very intense behind his glasses. “You are normally such a private person that I would never have expected you to want to volunteer for the lime light.”

It was Kotetsu’s turn to make a face. He wrinkled his nose, fiddling with the last few buttons of his shirt as he tried to come up with a good way to answer this that didn’t simultaneously advertise the intense anxiety and self-awareness he was feeling. “What else could I do?” he asked, trying for nonchalant. “Besides, I’m used to being unpopular or criticized. When you get to my age, you don’t let that kind of thing bother you.”

Barnaby let out a short laugh, interrupting the frown that had been tugging at the corners of his mouth, something Kotetsu was grateful for. He didn’t need Barnaby making that worried face at him; it did more to make him actually _feel_ old than any amounts of aches and pains or grey hair. “It’s true, you are very good at focusing on what’s really important,” he conceded, shaking his head slightly.

Kotetsu found himself distracted by the flaxen-gold color Barnaby’s hair turned when wet, darker than its normal light blond. The wet strands caught the light as Bunny shook his head, and Kotetsu actually missed the next words out of his partner’s mouth. “What?” he repeated, too loud and a little too slow.

Barnaby arched an eyebrow at him. It was the exact same bitchy little facial expression he’d leveled at Kotetsu any number of times—usually after Kotetsu had made some observation that displeased him, or (he had to be honest) done something foolish or embarrassing—and usually Kotetsu’s response was mostly to want to make fun of him or poke him a little. This time, though, it just made Kotetsu suddenly and viciously aware of how alone they were in the locker room, and of the fact that he could smell Barnaby’s shampoo (or whatever hair product it was). It smelled like coconut. Kotetsu felt his face go hot, and had never been so devoutly thankful for his dark complexion as he was at that moment.

“I said,” Barnaby repeated, enunciating carefully as though Kotetsu had temporarily become both slow and hard of hearing, “did you want to come over and have a drink tonight?”

“What?” Kotetsu said stupidly, and then waved his hand when Barnaby’s other eyebrow went up. “Sorry, I’m—yes. That sounds good.” He let out a forced sigh, dropping his eyes and rubbing the back of his head, out of sorts, and only partly for the reasons Barnaby no doubt thought. “Better than sitting in my own apartment freaking out about what we’re gonna say tomorrow, that’s for sure.”

He dared a glance up at Barnaby’s face, and was comforted to see how it had softened a little. “That’s why I asked,” Barnaby said. “Did you want to go home and get a change of clothes, first? We can get take-out too.”

This was how Kotetsu spent more of his nights than not, recently; if they weren’t busy with work, or he wasn’t taking a trip home to visit Kaede (something he did a lot more frequently these days) he was often over at Barnaby’s apartment, or having Barnaby over to his. He went over to Bunny’s a little more often than he had Bunny over, though he couldn’t have said why; maybe just that Barnaby’s place was closer to their work than Kotetsu’s was.

“Yeah, I’ll stop by my place real fast,” Kotetsu said. “If you order something I’ll pick it up on my way over. Noodles?”

“We got noodles last time,” Barnaby said. “How about the curry place you found last month? I think they do take-out.”

“Good idea,” Kotetsu said, perking up a little. He’d almost forgotten about the restaurant Barnaby just mentioned; it was a brand-new little Malaysian restaurant that had only been open for about three months. Kotetsu devoutly hoped they were successful, because they had some of the best curry in town, and actually spicy enough to bother with, something he loved. It was really fun to watch Barnaby try to eat the spicy food Kotetsu made or ordered; Barnaby was plenty tough in most ways, but like most white people Kotetsu knew, he couldn’t really handle spicy food without nearly keeling over or drowning himself in a bathtub of soda. “Order us something and I’ll grab it on my way over.”

“Sounds good,” said Barnaby, and smiled—his real smile, not the one he put on for the cameras and the glossy photo shoots. Kotetsu had often thought to himself that as handsome as Barnaby came across in his professional life, as cultured and dignified as he seemed in interviews and TV spots, the truth was that if any of his fans could see his _real_ smile, Barnaby would never get another minute of peace in his life from all the people following him around.

Kotetsu had always been more or less immune to that smile. He wasn’t really sure why today was different. Probably just the stress of what they were most likely about to do in the morning, he decided. That was all.

He hoped.

* * * * *

The forty minutes it took to stop by his apartment and grab a change of clothes and a six-pack did much to calm Kotetsu’s nerves. By the time he was walking up the front steps to Barnaby’s swanky apartment building with the beer and the curry take-out, he was feeling almost normal.

“There you are,” said Barnaby, pulling the door open maybe fifteen seconds after Kotetsu rang the bell. “That was fast. I got dessert on my way home, too; that grocery store by the coffee shop at work had fresh red bean buns.”

Kotetsu let out a noise that was definitely _not_ a squeal of delight, because he was a dignified adult who did not make such ridiculous noises. Barnaby laughed and held the door open, deftly snagging the bag of take-out from Kotetsu’s left hand so that Kotetsu could take off his shoes and jacket without having to resort to levitation. “I brought beer,” Kotetsu added as an afterthought.

“I see that,” Barnaby said. He sounded amused. “How drunk do you think we need to get tonight? I’m sure the only thing that would improve having to get up on TV and tell everyone you’re my boyfriend is being hungover while doing it.”

And just like that, all thoughts of avoiding the subject was thrown out the window. “Well if we’re going down _that_ road, you clearly need to get much, much drunker than I do,” Kotetsu said matter-of-factly. “I get the good end of this deal. You’re the King of Heroes, and the only reason I’m not relegated to the second league is because we’re more popular as a duo than alone.”

Barnaby made a noise that might have been indignation. “Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he said, grabbing the six-pack from Kotetsu’s other hand and turning to head back towards the kitchen. “You volunteered to go work in the second league because you wanted to mentor new Hero trainees, it’s not a punishment.”

Kotetsu waved a hand and shrugged. “Seriously, though,” he said. He followed Barnaby into the kitchen, snagging one of the beers out of its cardboard carrier and popping it open on his belt buckle. “This is going to be weird, isn’t it? Too weird?”

Instead of answering, Barnaby continued to the counter, where he set the six-pack (now five-pack) down and then set about opening and dishing out their dinner. “I guess it’s strange, yes,” he said after a moment; his attention was on the dishes in front of him, not Kotetsu, who was lounging against the counter, sipping his beer and watching his partner. “But mostly because I don’t like the idea of having to make public announcements about my private life. Though I suppose I would have had to either fake dating a woman or announce that I prefer men sooner or later, either way, so maybe this is for the best.”

Kotetsu had been in the middle of a long swig of beer when Barnaby got to that comment, and he promptly choked on it, spraying some out his nose and all but collapsing against the counter in a coughing fit. Barnaby turned towards him in alarm, eyebrows raised; Kotetsu waved a hand and shook his head, eyes watering as he coughed up the beer that had gone down the wrong pipe. “You what,” he wheezed, and made a face; he sounded like the drunk down on the corner by the liquor store, six sheets to the wind and angry at the world. “You—you don’t like women?”

“I thought you knew,” Barnaby said. He was staring at Kotetsu with an expression that Kotetsu couldn’t quite place, and it took him until he’d finally managed to stop aspirating light beer to catch on that it was as close to anxious as Barnaby ever visibly got.

“I didn’t know,” Kotetsu said, and immediately wished he’d phrased it better. “I mean—I didn’t—okay, uh, let me start again.” Barnaby said nothing, returning his attention to the dishes on the counter in front of him, which were now full of curry and rice. Kotetsu wasn’t fooled.

He took a deep breath and set his beer down. “I don’t care who you like or who you would prefer to date,” he said firmly. He was okay with fumbling his way through other interactions, but this one he was not willing to fuck up. “I just never really thought about it, that’s all. It didn’t seem important.”

Barnaby didn’t look up, but Kotetsu saw the way his shoulders eased. He watched Barnaby pick up the plates of food and carry them over to the table, meticulously arranging everything in place before finally responding himself. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, his voice light. “It’s certainly never been a big concern of mine. Neither of us has had any time to date.”

Kotetsu snorted. “I’m no good at dating,” he said dismissively. “There was only ever one person who was interested, and … you know how that turned out.”

It was Barnaby’s turn to snort. “You really are clueless, old man,” he said.

There was about eighteen ways Kotetsu could read that line, and almost all of them were terrifying. He chose to deftly side-step it, because if there was one tactic in life that had gotten him the farthest, it was to pointedly ignore the things that made him uncomfortable or he didn’t understand. “It’s part of my charm,” Kotetsu said instead, and winked cheesily. “Ask Kaede. The two of you can start a club. I bet Karina would join, too.”

Barnaby’s mouth quirked, the smile he was fighting to keep from showing slowly winning. “I don’t think Kaede would want any part of the club Karina and I would start,” was all he said before turning back to the food on the table. “C’mon, let’s eat, I’m starving.”

Kotetsu was more than happy to turn his attention to the delicious-smelling curry. Barnaby had ordered mango curry and red curry, and they shared, much to Kotetsu’s amusement. Barnaby ate with obvious enjoyment, but by midway through the meal his face had gone ruddy, beads of sweat standing out on his forehead from the spice. 

“Need another beer? Maybe some yogurt?” Kotetsu asked as he got up to get another beer for himself, unable to keep from teasing a little. Barnaby shot him a murderous glare that would have held significantly more venom if not for the way he had started to leak profusely. Kotetsu chuckled and snagged another bottle, setting it down by Barnaby’s plate. 

They retired to the couches when they were done eating, Barnaby putting on the third in the series of the ridiculous action movies Kotetsu insisted on watching with him. 

(“What kind of sequel name is ‘2 Fast 2 Furious’?” Barnaby had asked, probably rhetorically. “What kind of person hasn’t seen these movies already?” Kotetsu had demanded in response. Barnaby had given it up as a bad job after that, or maybe just resigning himself to Kotetsu’s terrible and amazing taste in cinema.)

Kotetsu slouched on the long L-shaped end, while Barnaby perched more carefully against the arm at the other end. Barnaby’s apartment was as spotless as ever—probably the other reason he preferred to have Kotetsu over instead of go over to Kotetsu’s, now that Kotetsu thought about it—but he’d spent enough time here that now it felt comfortable, familiar. 

“When we’re done with these movies, I’m going to make you watch something more intellectual,” Barnaby remarked, as the player booted up. 

“No documentaries,” Kotetsu said. “And no sad endings.”

Barnaby made a noise, glancing over at him. “What do you have against serious cinema?”

“Come on, how much depressing stuff do we have to deal with on a regular basis, and you’re telling me you still want more in your entertainment? It’s like you want to be sad.”

“Having empathy for the human condition is not the same as wanting to be sad,” Barnaby said. Kotetsu had a brief but intense mental image of a bird with its feathers all ruffled and puffed up, affronted by some interloper in its space. 

“I have plenty of empathy. It’s why I became a Hero.” As if to punctuate this statement, Kotetsu took a long swig of his beer and then belched loudly. “Hey, what’s taking the movie so long to come up? Is your player broken?”

Barnaby was still leveling an expression of deep and undeserved suffering at Kotetsu when this question was raised. He blinked, and then frowned, unfolding himself from the couch and crossing to the small wall of controls by the desk. He fiddled with it for a second, then sighed. “Ah… it seems that it needs an update, and won’t load until it has done so.”

“Technology.” Kotetsu gestured widely with the hand still holding his beer bottle. “This is why robots and technology can never really replace people. Can you imagine if your robotic surgeon needed to update itself before it could start an urgent surgery?” 

He sat up, moving his arms in short, choppy gestures and dropping his voice, adopting a pseudo “robotic” tone that sounded more like he’d gotten really stoned on cold medication than anything else. “Sorry, Mr. Patient… bleep bloop! I can’t… save your life—beep! Until you’ve updated my operating system!” 

He peeked at Barnaby as he finished this masterful impression. Barnaby was watching him with raised eyebrows, mouth slightly open, as though he felt he should say something but had absolutely no idea what. “What?” Kotetsu demanded, when he’d waited ten seconds and no response had come. “Come on! It’s funny!”

“Of course it is,” said Barnaby, shaking himself a little and straightening up. “You are truly a prophet, old man.”

“Hrmph.” Kotetsu slouched back into his seat, folding his arms over his chest with a huff. “For charming Hero, you’re not very friendly today.”

“I’ll try to fix that for you,” Barnaby remarked, a real smile hovering on his lips again now. He tapped a few more buttons on his control display and then sat up. “It’s downloading now, I’ve set it to auto-install once the download is done. It should be just a couple of minutes. Sorry for the wait.”

Kotetsu snorted. “No worries.” He took another drink of his beer, shutting his eyes for a moment as his slightly alcohol-loosened mind wandered. Later, he would blame the next words out of his mouth on the three beers he’d already had to drink before the movie even started. “So what do you think this fake-dating thing is going to be like? How dedicated are we going to have to be?”

Barnaby glanced at him. He came back to the couch and retrieved his beer, settling back in as well and folding his long legs beneath him as he sat down. “I really couldn’t say,” he said after a moment. “Some of it depends on things we don’t know, like exactly how well this ‘Enigma’ has infiltrated our establishment. It’s no good to announce a relationship publicly and then act normally in private if this person sees any part of our more private lives.”

“At least then maybe he would realize how delusional he is,” Kotetsu said fervently.

“Maybe,” Barnaby agreed. “Or maybe he’d do something even more dangerous. He’s already shown us he’s willing to resort to violence to force support of his worldview. I wouldn’t want to set him off on innocent people.”

Kotetsu made a face. “I’m starting to think maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to agree to humoring this psychopath,” he muttered. “I hope we don’t regret it.”

“Unlike most civilians, we at least have our NEXT abilities to fall back on to protect ourselves,” Barnaby said, sounding entirely too reasonable for someone who’d had at least as much to drink as Kotetsu. Or maybe he’d only had two beers; Kotetsu was no longer very sure. “And at the end of the day, our job is to protect the innocent. Even if it’s at some personal cost to ourselves.” He shot Kotetsu a meaningful look when he said this last, a very definite smile warming his face now. It made him entirely too handsome.

Kotetsu let out a long sigh. “Why do you always quote that back at me at the most inconvenient time?” he asked, a querulous note creeping into his voice. “You little shit.”

“Oh, but didn’t you just saw that pretending to get to date me is the luckiest you’ve been in awhile?” Barnaby’s eyes had gone wide, his expression very earnest. “I would never want to deny you that joy, Kotetsu. Especially not if it serves the public interest!”

“If I get interviewed about what kissing you is like, I can’t promise I’ll be able to hold back.” Kotetsu was grinning now too. He strongly suspected the expression was dopey. It _felt_ dopey, felt like he couldn’t quite get control of his muscles; his face felt funny, whether from the booze or from something else, he couldn’t say. “Make all the teenage girls hate me.”

“And here I thought you’d be telling them I didn’t know how to kiss because I’m so young. That you had to show me the way, with your years of experience.” Barnaby was outright smirking now. 

“Oh, that’s true. Maybe kissing you would be like kissing a washing machine.” At this, Barnaby’s mouth fell open. Kotetsu burst out laughing as his partner threw a pillow at him. “Ha! A washing machine with perfect hair!” 

“Get out of my house,” Barnaby said, and Kotetsu felt his face crease as he laughed harder, unable to dodge as Barnaby threw another pillow at him. The movie booted up on the big screen on the wall as Kotetsu crumpled on the couch, laughing like an idiot while Barnaby walloped him with pillows, and it took almost until the title credits had finished for him to calm down again. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he was afraid of.

* * * * *

As it turned out, the next day wasn’t as bad as Kotetsu was afraid of. It was exponentially worse.

Kotetsu ended up not sleeping very well, despite passing out from a total of five beers on Barnaby’s couch. He woke up and showered around 4 am and curled up on the couch with the tablet Barnaby had given him as a gift last Christmas, browsing listlessly for reports of their newest nemesis, but aside from the major one about the Heroes dispatching the bomb threat successfully the day before, there was nothing. Kotetsu supposed that was to be expected.

He wasn’t even that hungover—he almost wished that he was; then he could blame the anxiety sitting like a piece of melted lead in the pit of his stomach on that. Not even getting drunk would save him from having to stare his new problems in the face with clear eyes, apparently. He fingered the golden band on his ring finger absently, wondering if he would have found himself in such a ridiculous position if Tomoe was still here to keep him out of trouble.

Probably not. Then again, if Tomoe was still alive, Kotetsu would probably have retired and stuck with it when his power had started to decline. Tomoe had always supported his Hero work and would never have asked him to quit, but Kotetsu suspected he would have found puttering around the house much less empty with his wife’s laugh echoing from the kitchen.

Around 6, he heard Barnaby’s alarm go off. A few minutes later the tell-tale sound of water in the pipes told him that his partner was up and about, and for lack of anything better to do (the news reports and the shifting city lights outside were starting to depress him) he dragged himself up off the couch and went into the kitchen. He dug out a skillet, some eggs, and some vegetables from the fridge, got a pot of coffee going (he usually preferred tea but today he thought he might need something stronger), and set himself to the task of making breakfast for both of them.

Barnaby appeared in the door about fifteen minutes later, pausing for a moment in the doorway with a sort of blank lack of comprehension that was replaced by groggy surprise after a moment. “I didn’t expect you to be up yet,” he said, as Kotetsu glanced up at him. Kotetsu gestured at the cheerfully percolating machine, and Barnaby recovered himself enough to cross the room to the coffee pot, going into the cupboard to get himself a mug.

“Ah, I just happened to wake up a little earlier than you, that’s all,” Kotetsu said mildly. He felt Barnaby’s eyes on the back of his neck, but kept his own gaze directed downwards at the sizzling eggs and vegetables in the pan. “Breakfast is almost ready, I hope a vegetable omelet is okay.”

“No, that sounds good,” Barnaby said. When Kotetsu glanced up in search of the vegetable oil spray, Barnaby was still watching him, an inscrutable look in his eyes. But if he was thinking about Kotetsu’s fib—if he was awake enough to tell at all—he didn’t say anything, just went into the fridge to get cream for his coffee. “Thank you for making breakfast, Kotetsu.”

Kotetsu waved a hand by way of acknowledgment, and Barnaby disappeared towards the front door, returning with the newspaper and some kind of bulletin that he did not even so much as glance at before pitching into the waste bin. Kotetsu served the omelets and toast a few minutes later, and they ate in companionable silence.

On other occasions when he’d stayed the night, Kotetsu was usually given to either being totally insensate at this time of day (if they were really worn out from Hero work the day before) or chattering Barnaby’s ear off with his rambling. Barnaby was more regular in his habits—he almost always rose early except in very rare circumstances—but Kotetsu was definitely more the morning person. Barnaby hardly qualified as human till after his second cup of coffee.

(Kotetsu had found this dichotomy so entertaining that he’d been unable to resist poking Barnaby over it a little. The last time he’d come over, he’d gone out of his way to dig out a recent economics magazine with a particularly humorous cover. The illustration was one of what appeared to be a sullen-looking Kodiak bear in a blue business suit, complete with a hat and a black briefcase. Kotetsu had waited with all the grace of a five-year-old at the kitchen table, and when Barnaby had shuffled blearily into the kitchen, Kotetsu had waved the magazine at him and waggled his eyebrows.

“I found a portrait of you before you have your morning coffee, Bunny!” he had chirped. Barnaby had glared at him over the rims of his glasses, making a noise of deep and gravel-voiced disgust that any grizzly would be proud of. Kotetsu had found himself stuck with a lot of paperwork that day.)

Today, though, Kotetsu all but had to force himself to eat, picking distractedly at the omelet and toast he’d made. Barnaby said little, but when Kotetsu got up to pour himself another cup of coffee he heard the chair legs scrape back from the table as Barnaby rode as well. “You should ride in to work with me on my bike,” Barnaby said.

Whatever he’d been expecting Bunny would say, it wasn’t that. “Eh?” Kotetsu turned around, his coffee poured but un-sugared, eyebrow raised. “You know I don’t like motorcycles.”

“That’s because you’re a stick-in-the-mud,” Barnaby said matter-of-factly. “Time to get with the times, old man.”

Kotetsu’s jaw dropped. “I’M the stick-in-the-mud?” he demanded. “You don’t loosen up unless someone steals your belt!”

“If you’re still too much of a chicken to do it, by all means drive in by yourself.” Barnaby was smiling very faintly now, watching Kotetsu fixedly over the top rims of his glasses.

It was obviously bait. He shouldn’t rise to it. Kotetsu’s lip curled, and he took a sip of his coffee, still glaring at Barnaby. He spat it out immediately (Barnaby’s coffee was strong and _bitter_ ) and resolutely ignored the way Barnaby’s grin widened as Kotetsu turned around again to add the sugar and cream he’d neglected before. “I’m not scared of motorcycles, I just think they’re trying too hard,” he said loudly. “But if you’re gonna get hung up on something so dumb, I guess I have to make a point of it.”

“I guess you will,” Barnaby agreed, standing up. He gathered up the dishes and took them to the sink, quickly cleaning them off and putting them in the dishwasher. “Finish your coffee, old man. I’ll go get the extra helmet for you.” Kotetsu shot a dirty glare at the back of Barnaby’s head as his partner vanished towards the bedroom again, sipping his coffee and muttering to himself.

The ride in was exhilarating, if nothing else. Kotetsu spent most of it with his arms clamped tight enough around Barnaby’s waist to serve as an amusement ride seat belt. It didn’t seem to matter that he spent a huge amount of his time jumping off tall buildings or being thrown through walls; something about traveling at such high speeds between fast-moving vehicles made Kotetsu clamp up and his heart rate speed like he’d been stabbed with epinephrine.

The bike was one of Barnaby’s few extravagances, and one of the few things he seemed to take visible delight in; he’d gotten it during the year Kotetsu was away, and had been trying to goad Kotetsu into riding it with him since Kotetsu’s return to Hero work. It was a newer model, fast and light but well-made, surprisingly powerful for how small and sleek it was—much like Barnaby. Kotetsu wasn’t really sure why he’d let himself be persuaded today of all days, but the thought of sitting inside his own head on public transport or even in a car on the way into work had been too much to bear.

(He was keenly aware of the warmth of Barnaby’s body through his leather suit, would even swear that he could smell Barnaby’s cologne and hair products despite the wind and the helmets they both wore. But the speed of their drive was such that his thoughts narrowed to nothing more than those physical sensations, blotting out anxiety and guilt and all manner of swirling negative thoughts, and so he was glad to tie his consciousness to those things: the faint, musky scent of Barnaby’s skin mixed with his aftershave, the creak and press of his riding leathers, the mechanical roar of the bike, the blur of the city’s sounds and lights and smells around them as they drove. Maybe this was why Barnaby liked to ride: it sheared his consciousness down to just sensation, a spirit just experiencing the world around him.)

The little bubble of serenity burst as soon as they got to work. Kotetsu had barely pulled the helmet off his head and wiped the sweat from his forehead when their unit on their wrists beeped, Lloyds’s voice telling them to come up to the meeting room straight away. Kotetsu exchanged a look with Barnaby, and the two of them headed for the elevator.

“Hello, Heroes,” said Lloyds as Kotetsu and Barnaby stepped into the room. Agnes was here too, her arms crossed over her chest; she was in one of the chairs across from Lloyds’s desk.

Lloyds stood up behind his desk, resting his fingers lightly on the polished dark wood, his expression set. “It’s time to brief you on our game plan. I’ve been in contact with your sponsors, and while none of us like having to sacrifice your image, we hope to be able to spin this to make you even more popular and not put anyone at risk.”

“I’m clearing the end of your week for interviews and other opportunities that arise,” said Agnes. “You’ll be off Hero duty for a few days, except of course if a true emergency arises. But you’ll be in the public eye when we go through with this.”

“Ah,” said Kotetsu. His voice failed him; he shoved his hands uselessly into his pocket, for lack of anything better to do with them. Instinctively he glanced at Barnaby, standing beside him, and as if that was the cue he was waiting for Barnaby straightened a little and stepped forward.

“What’s the approach?” he asked. “And who will know the actual truth?”

“Only the people in this room, plus your sponsors,” said Lloyds.

That surprised Kotetsu. “Not the other Heroes?” he asked.

“They’ll know as soon as we can be sure of telling them, but Enigma is finding information out about you two _somehow_ ,” said Agnes. “We don’t suspect any of your teammates of anything, but the culprit is probably masquerading as an employee here somewhere, and might have access to more than we realize. The other Heroes can’t leak anything they don’t know, so we can’t tell them yet.”

“Your story is straightforward,” Lloyds continued, ignoring the small noise of protest Kotetsu made. “The fewer details we release, the better. But the approach we are taking is that the two of you have been a romantic pair for awhile, but chose to hide your relationship until now.”

“We can’t give the appearance of giving in to blackmail, so our official reason for you choosing to make your relationship public now is that you have just become engaged,” said Agnes.

“What?” yelped Kotetsu. “Engaged?!” Barnaby glanced at him and then back at their bosses, his own raised eyebrows the only indication that he was as surprised as Kotetsu was. 

“We needed _some_ reason,” Agnes retorted, looking a little nettled. “And since neither of you are capable of getting pregnant, this was what we could come up with on short notice.”

“Naturally,” Barnaby said, his tone deceptively mild. “So we’re engaged and decided that now was the time to be honest about it.”

“Correct,” said Lloyds. “There’s a few more details, however…”

Inwardly, Kotetsu groaned. He reminded himself again that this had been _his_ idea, or at least he’d been the first to verbally champion it, but that wasn’t really doing much to save him from his buyer’s remorse right now.

The intensely private part of him was recoiling at this public dog-and-pony show. Worse even than that, though, was the part of him that cherished his marriage to Tomoe and his partnership with Barnaby as two of the three most precious things in his life (the third being Kaede), and to see them both made so tawdry in one go was putting an awful taste in his mouth.

But there was nothing for it, now. All he could do was hold on and do his best.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kotetsu and Barnaby find out that pretending to be in a relationship is a lot more complicated than they bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this week's chapter day early in anticipation of a lot of other stuff I have to get done in the next 4 days. Huzzah!

Kotetsu collapsed into the chair, throwing his arm across his face and groaning. Next to him, Barnaby did the same, slouching down into the chair as though the weight of the world had collapsed on his shoulders. Neither of them said anything for several moments; they were too taken up with the crippling exhaustion draped over them like a clinging net. Their NEXT abilities were all well and good, but even five minutes had not been nearly long enough against the destruction the earthquake had wrought on the little seaside town, to say nothing of the following tsunami. It wasn’t the worst their country had seen, by any means, but it was plenty bad enough.

“How long till we get back to Sternbild?” Kotetsu asked, without opening his eyes.

“Two hours,” Barnaby said faintly.

“Why are we on a private plane and everyone else has to go by train?”

“Because we announced that we’re engaged this morning and now we have to go do publicity events,” Barnaby said wearily.

“Goddammit,” muttered Kotetsu, and was rewarded with a soft laugh from Barnaby.

“We have to do paperwork before we get back, too,” added Barnaby, prompting another curse from Kotetsu.

It had been a very long day.

The briefing about their relationship announcement that morning had taken almost two hours. Kotetsu was quite sure it would have taken even longer had it not been for the abrupt arrival of Channel 16 News, who had somehow gotten wind that the beloved duo of Hero TV would be making a big announcement and wanted the scoop. Instead of blowing them off, Agnes had decided to oblige them, and that was how Barnaby and Kotetsu (who had opted to wear his mask, even though it didn’t particularly matter) had wound up on the roof of Apollon Media’s building, giving an exclusive interview to one thrilled reporter. Soon the whole city would know.

 _“I realize this comes as a big shock,”_ Barnaby had said, cool as a cucumber, oblivious to the quaking of Kotetsu’s heart inside his rib cage. _“But we have decided that it is past time to be honest with our fans. Wild Tiger and I have recently become engaged, and we want all of our fans to know. Please accept us and wish us happiness._ ”

The news of the earthquake on the coast had come shortly after that, interrupting what had promised to be hours and hours of explosive media attention. Kotetsu had never been so grateful to hear about a natural disaster in his life. The entire Hero team had been air-lifted out to the disaster site to help with extraction and excavation, rescuing almost seventy people with their efforts before the fire caused by broken electrical mains had calmed enough to allow the more normal emergency personnel into the area safely.

(The rest of the team had wanted to know what the fuck was going on, of course; Antonio had been especially shocked. Considering he and Kotetsu had known each other since before graduating high school, Kotetsu felt probably more guilty about lying to him than anyone else, but orders were orders, and there hadn’t exactly been time to sit and discuss things in a civil fashion. But being ordered onto a private plane while everyone else waiting for the next available train to take them back to Sternbild had been yet more frustrating and embarrassing.)

Kotetsu shut his eyes, briefly considering whether it was worth it to take his contacts out. The air on planes was always so harsh on his eyes when he wore contacts to fly, even a private chartered plane like this one, and he already had something of a headache stemming probably from the exertion they’d just put in. If he left his contacts in for any amount of time, it’d be like having pieces of sandpaper jammed against his eyeballs.

“Be right back,” he said resignedly, and went to dig his glasses and his contact case out of the bag some attendant had grabbed for him to have en route back from the disaster site. He ducked into the posh white-washed bathroom, washing his hands under the piddly little stream that the faucet provided, then carefully took out one contact lens and then the other.

Kotetsu slid his glasses on and made a face at himself in the mirror. The suit’s helmet covered his face and head, of course, but it hadn’t saved his overly-long hair from turning into a sweaty, tangled mess. He needed a trim and had been putting it off. And he was supposed to talk to the media looking like this? “Attractive,” he muttered.

He popped open his glasses case and grabbed one of the hair bands he kept there for emergencies like this. (It had actually been Tomoe who had first started stashing them there for him, and he’d found it useful so he always kept a few there.) It took a few moments of wetting his hair and then dragging fingers through it while bent over in an attempt to get the dark clumps to de-tangle enough to be pulled back, but then he finally managed to pull the worst of it into a little knot at the nape of his neck and tie it there.

There. At least now he didn’t look like something Barnaby had dug out of the trash. He turned to go, and then figured he might as well relieve himself while he was here. Thankfully Saito had made the fastenings of the body-suit easier to open; Kotetsu didn’t relish his daily ritual of peeling himself out of the electro-stim nanofiber suit that clung to his body like a second skin, and he certainly didn’t want to do it any more often than necessary—not when he’d just have to climb back into it before they got back.

He had just done himself back up and was leaning forward to press the handle to flush when the bump came. The plane hit a pocket of turbulence, and Kotetsu was thrown off-balance, stumbling slightly and bashing his knees against the edge of the toilet bowl. The jolt knocked his glasses right off his sweaty face at the same moment as Kotetsu’s outflung hand hit the handle. Kotetsu caught himself against the lid of the tank and stared uncomprehendingly as the slim black frames sailed directly into the bowl of swirling water and disappeared cleanly down the hole at the bottom of the bowl.

“Oh my god,” he said aloud. Did—did he really just—

“Kotetsu?” came Barnaby’s voice from the cabin. “Are you okay?”

“Fine!” Kotetsu yelled back, because _I am too much of an idiot to live, please kill me and put me out of my misery_ was a bit much.

Okay. He could, um. He had an extra pair of glasses… but they were back at his apartment in the drawer of his bed-side cabinet. He could put the contacts back in, but just thinking about it sent a pulse of dull pain through his temples, and he winced and shook his head as he nixed that idea as well. Kotetsu knew that his glasses were probably not _damaged_ , just—hard to get at, but truthfully even if by some miracle there was a painless procedure to retrieve them from the septic tank of the plane, he wasn’t really sure he wanted them back. He couldn’t imagine putting them back on his face after the journey they’d just taken.

Maybe he could just nap all the way back to Sternbild. No, Barnaby had said they had paperwork to do. Fuck. Kotetsu gritted his teeth.

Barnaby looked up at him as Kotetsu emerged from the bathroom, apparently having recovered enough to be wondering what had taken his partner so long. “Are you airsick?” he asked, brow furrowing.

“No, just an idiot,” said Kotetsu disgustedly as he dropped back into the seat beside Barnaby’s. They weren’t really separated seats so much as a couch with segmented backs, plush and surprisingly cool for the kind of oppressive atmosphere you usually found on a plane. “Also, do you have an extra pair of glasses I can borrow?”

Barnaby stared at him. “Is that a joke?”

Kotetsu’s lip curled. “No. I just lost mine down the toilet because of that turbulence, and the contacts hurt my eyes, so…”

Barnaby blinked, his eyes flicking from Kotetsu’s face to the contact lens case Kotetsu still had in his hand. “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he said, sounding genuinely surprised.

“I don’t, really,” Kotetsu said. “Usually I wear contacts. And I don’t look as good as you do in glasses, so I don’t wear them.”

At this, a smile flickered across Barnaby’s face; there was something more in his expression, Kotetsu was sure, but even sitting this close his partner’s face was too fuzzy to make out more. “I’m sure you look fine,” he said. “But to answer your question, of course you can borrow a pair of mine. Are you near-sighted?”

“Very,” said Kotetsu.

Barnaby’s smile solidified. “What’s your prescription? Mine is -3.25/-2.75.”

“Believe it or not, pretty sure mine is worse than that,” said Kotetsu. “But not by that much.”

Barnaby inclined his head. “Well, if you want them to try to do paperwork, I do have an extra pair.”

“Ah, please,” said Kotetsu, some of the irritation cramping his gut easing. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” said Barnaby mildly, as he got up to go to his own bag. “Just promise you won’t flush them down the toilet too.”

“Oh come on!” Kotetsu exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “It was bad luck!”

“You have the kind of luck that qualifies as incredible,” Barnaby informed him as he came back over, handing a slim pair of wire frames to Kotetsu as he settled back into his own seat. “Both good and bad.”

“I don’t know whether to thank you for that or not,” Kotetsu muttered. He slid the frames onto his face, and the world came back into focus, Barnaby’s tickled expression the first thing appearing to him. Kotetsu tried to ignore the stab of warmth that immediately curled through his stomach at that sight.

Barnaby’s eyebrows went up. “Well? How are they?”

“Not bad,” Kotetsu said, blinking as his eyes adjusted. “You’re not as blind as I am, but it’s a lot better than nothing.”

“And to think all this time I’ve been jealous of what I thought was your perfect vision.” Barnaby reached over on his other side, pulling a briefcase towards him and opening its fastenings to reveal a veritable mountain of paperwork.

Kotetsu snorted. “There’s still lots about me you don’t know, Bunny,” he said archly.

“Well if we’re going to be married, I should probably work on that,” remarked Barnaby, though his attention was on the papers he was pulling out of the briefcase. Kotetsu felt himself flush. He made a face to hide the fact that he was flustered, and mutely accepted the paperwork Barnaby handed him.

They pulled out the folding desks and went to work. The paperwork was mostly interminable bullshit, having to do with updated indemnification paperwork and reports for their affiliated insurance companies relating to the disaster they had just helped oversee, but closer to the bottom of the pile was the first of what Kotetsu suspected would be a great many re-negotiations of previously-agreed-upon deals with sponsors and other corporate entities. Most of these seemed fairly straightforward, but here and there Kotetsu had to lean over and ask Bunny about a phrase or particularly confusing clause before he could figure out what he was meant to put in the blank spaces provided for his answer or signature.

It turned out that Barnaby’s glasses weren’t quite as close to his own prescription as Kotetsu had initially thought. A good hour into their paperwork, the strain of having to constantly try to focus his eyes was transforming the mild headache he’d already had into a full-blown migraine. Kotetsu signed his signature at the bottom of the form he was finishing and then slumped in the seat, letting his skull sink into the headrest, squeezing his eyes shut. He pulled the glasses from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, mouth hanging open as he let out a sigh.

He felt, more than saw, the way that Barnaby paused and looked over at him. “Are the glasses giving you a headache?” Barnaby asked.

Kotetsu nodded without opening his eyes. His whole head was throbbing, as though someone had clamped a vise around his skull and was winching it ever more tightly shut. The altered air pressure inside the cabin wasn’t doing him any favors, either. “Sorry,” he said, as an afterthought.

“It’s okay…” Kotetsu heard shuffling, felt the whisper of the sheaves of paper on the backs of his hands as Barnaby reached over and took the pile of forms from Kotetsu’s desk. There was some rustling and a muffled clicking, and then Kotetsu opened his eyes with a start as he felt Barnaby’s hands on the back of his neck. “Come here,” said Barnaby, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

“What are you—”

“Lay down and shut your eyes,” Barnaby said. His tone was patient, his calm expression not unlike what Kaede’s kindergarten teacher used to wear when she was dealing with a rebellious student. “We have a long evening ahead of us still, so let me help you relax a little before we get where we’re going.”

Kotetsu hesitated. Even without the added layer of weirdness that came from being “engaged” to his young partner, the intimacy suggested by this offer made him squirm for reasons he was having trouble defining. The warmth in Barnaby’s voice did nothing to improve his awareness of the situation.

…But Barnaby was right. And his head hurt so fucking badly. Kotetsu let out a soft sigh, then let Barnaby guide him down till he was lying horizontally across the couch they were seated on, his head pillowed in Barnaby’s lap. Kotetsu felt careful fingers at the back of his skull, tugging free the hair band that was still holding his hair back into its little tail, and then a loosening of pressure on his scalp as his hair was freed.

Kotetsu let out a soft groan at the gentle press of fingers carding through his hair. It was on his lips to protest Barnaby touching his dirty, sweaty hair, but a soft _shhhhh_ from Barnaby silenced him before he could even get the words out. He swallowed, a sudden lump in his throat that he didn’t quite know how to explain.

Maybe it was just that no one had touched him with such sweetness in so long—not for sex, or for violence, but for comfort. The idea hurt him, and he pushed it away, unable to cope with it right now.

Barnaby set about massaging his scalp, his clever fingers digging just barely into Kotetsu’s aching skull, the barest hint of nails adding an edge of sweet relief Kotetsu hadn’t thought was possible outside of a dose of painkillers and a good night’s sleep. Kotetsu whined, faint and pained, shuddering as Barnaby dragged fingers down the back of his head, scratching his scalp lightly like a dog. It felt so good, relief melting through the tension all over his head and neck. His world narrowed to the whirr of the plane’s engines and the black insides of his eyelids, all of his attention focused on the fingers oh-so-carefully probing his skull.

To his endless surprise, he found himself getting drowsy. He hadn’t thought it possible to fall asleep with this kind of headache, but the lack of sleep the night before and the toll of the day was wearing on him. “M’gonna doze off if you don’t stop,” he managed, already somnolent.

“That’s fine,” murmured Barnaby. “I know you’re tired. It’s okay.”

“Nngh…” Kotetsu let out another sigh, shifting slightly to lay more on his hip, his other leg stretched out long, foot dangling off the edge of the couch as Barnaby continued to rub his scalp. The idea floated across his sinking consciousness that if anyone were to lay eyes on them, they really would think the two of them were in a relationship. Maybe that was why Barnaby had offered. Christ, but that was a cynical thought, though. Was he really so jaded about relationships that he didn’t think his partner was capable of offering him kindness for a reason that wasn’t an ulterior motive?

Something else occurred to him, the last whisper of thought before sleep. “Don’t look at my grey hair,” he mumbled.

“Too late.” Barnaby laughed, softly. “I noticed awhile ago.”

Kotetsu made a noise of displeasure in his throat, and felt a hand stroke his face, brushing a few sweaty strands out of his face. “Go to sleep, Kotetsu,” Barnaby murmured.

Kotetsu did. And when he woke thirty minutes later with his head still in Barnaby’s lap as the plane began its descent into Sternbild, his headache was gone. In its place was a growing awareness that this experiment in pretend intimacy might be a very bad idea, and not at all for the reasons he had initially thought.

Naturally, it was now much too late for him to change his mind.

* * * * *

The next twenty-four hours were something of a whirlwind. Or a typhoon, if Kotetsu were to be asked his opinion: overwhelming and disastrous.

As soon as they got back to Sternbild and took three steps off the plane, they were swept off to yet another press conference. Press conferences were something Kotetsu was familiar with, of course, but this one mixed the flavor of “post-Hero work breakdown” with “let’s talk about your relationship.” The former he was fine with; the latter, he was finding, he did not like the taste of at all.

“How long have the two of you been together?” The microphone was thrust into Kotetsu’s face, the halogen lights overhead much too bright. Barnaby hovered right by Kotetsu’s hip, preventing him from being swallowed up by the crush of reporters.

“Ah…” Kotetsu struggled to recall the script they’d gone over this morning, not wanting to mess up the details Lloyds and Agnes had painstakingly come up with for them. “A little over eight months? We—we got together not long after we both came back to Hero work.”

“Was it hard being separated during that year apart? When did you both realize you had feelings for each other?”

“Being separated was certainly part of the reason I chose to be honest with Tiger when we reunited,” Barnaby said. Unlike how Kotetsu was feeling, Barnaby sounded calm, or at least, calmer than Kotetsu was feeling.

“How do the other Heroes feel about the fact that you’ve been hiding your relationship?”

Kotetsu winced before he could stop himself. “We—haven’t really had a chance to talk to them about it yet,” he said haltingly. “We were too busy trying to get survivors out from the rubble.”

“Do you feel like you’ve deceived them? Do you feel like you are giving your fans good role models to look up to?”

“How will you respond to the accusations that you aren’t fit to continue doing Hero work?” 

“Some of your fans are claiming that you aren’t a good Hero for young children, and that you should discontinue your work with primary school students. How do you feel about these statements?”

Kotetsu could feel himself stalling out, the glut of probing, semi-accusative questions steadily undoing all the work Barnaby had done chasing his headache away. His hair was back in its little ponytail, and even though he had his contacts in again and his mask across his face, he wanted nothing more than to go hide underneath the nearest box and not come out until everyone had left.

“That’s enough questions for right now,” said Barnaby, firmly. Kotetsu felt an arm go around his shoulders, Barnaby’s grip as sure as his voice. “Tiger and I have had a very long day, and we have more interviews scheduled in the coming days. Please direct further questions to our agents.” With that, he turned Kotetsu and walked with him towards the exit, where several stony-faced guards and their familiar Hero TV camera crew waited. The guards closed ranks behind Barnaby and Kotetsu, preventing the clamoring swarm of reporters from following them into the building, and Kotetsu let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“How do you deal with all of that?” he asked, glancing at his partner.

Barnaby responded by way of a lopsided smile. “Practice,” he said. “It gets a little easier, I promise.”

“I don’t know whether to hope for that or not,” Kotetsu muttered. “I’d rather they just leave us alone.”

“Small chance of that,” Barnaby said, and Kotetsu couldn’t help but agree.

He abruptly noticed that Barnaby still had his arm around Kotetsu’s shoulders, their hips pressed against each other as they headed down the hall to their locker room. But then, of course he did—the only people who knew that this wasn’t the real thing was Agnes and Lloyds, and there were still plenty of other people around. Barnaby’s arm stayed wrapped around him till they got to the privacy of their locker rooms, only falling away when the door shut behind them. Kotetsu suffered a pang of disappointment as Barnaby turned and started to strip out of his body suit.

Time to deflect that, and fast. “Well that was only twice as terrible as I was afraid it would be,” he said, with a small laugh. He rolled his shoulders as he stripped out of his own suit, wincing as his right deltoid and trap muscles twinged in protest. No doubt he’d pulled something during the excavation work they’d been doing earlier.

“It’s not going to let up for awhile,” Barnaby said absently. “You might as well get used to it.” Kotetsu glanced over, saw that Barnaby was naked from the waist up save for the gleaming gold chain he always wore around his throat, and felt heat flush all the way through him. He immediately averted his eyes, wondering if he should go take a cold shower and then feeling stupid for even considering such a thing.

It wasn’t like he was attracted to Barnaby, he told himself. Or maybe he was, a little; the circumstances were probably just too suggestive for him, that’s all. But it didn’t _mean_ anything.

Their wrist communicators beeped in unison; there was a message from Lloyds. Barnaby tapped his communicator, blowing the message up on the wall for them to both look at. It was from Lloyds. _Good work today, you two,_ said the little hologram of their supervisor. _No further communication from Enigma, but we did find some bombs at public places today. We of course have no way of knowing how many more are left, so you will continue with your current course._

“Of course,” muttered Kotetsu. They could hardly back out now, could they? He was still distracted by the awareness of Barnaby standing around all sweaty and half-naked next to him, not to mention his annoyance at himself for being so distracted, so he was only half-following the message.

 _You have been invited to attend a baseball game tomorrow as the guests of honor,_ said Lloyds. _Make sure to dress nicely. Also, the two of you are to sleep at each other’s apartments for the foreseeable future until you are told otherwise._

“What?!” Kotetsu yelped, even as the message continued. _The last thing we need is for people to think that the newly-engaged couple are having relationship issues. Stay in tonight and lay low, no going out in public except for planned appearances for at least a few days._ “Come on!”

“You spend the night at my apartment all the time,” Barnaby said, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Why does this bother you?”

“Well, that’s different! That’s just us hanging out, this is us being ordered to do something.”

“You’ve been a Hero a lot longer than I have. I would have thought you’d be used to taking orders you didn’t enjoy at this point.” Barnaby’s smile was faint but definitely there. Kotetsu elbowed him gracelessly and went back to stripping out of his bodysuit, still annoyed.

Barnaby was right, of course. There was no reason this was any different than any other night he’d spent over at Barnaby’s. And at least they would have privacy. Or at least, that’s what he told himself as he went off to shower the grime of the day off so they could head home.

* * * * *

They rode home on the back of Barnaby’s motorcycle, just like they’d gone in. Except now Kotetsu was thinking about the fact that at least one news crew had gotten shots of them at an intersection near mid-city, not to mention wondering what people would be thinking about their relationship dynamic when greeted with the sight of him clinging to Barnaby’s waist like a damsel in distress. He supposed it wasn’t any worse than riding in the side-car of their Hero bike, but everything was in hyper-focus today.

As soon as they got home, Kotetsu shucked his jacket and shoes, flinging himself onto the couch with a loud sigh. His reprieve was short-lived, however; Barnaby slipped into the bedroom to change, and when he emerged he was holding Kotetsu’s phone. “You left this in the bathroom this morning,” he said. “It looks like you have a few missed calls.”

Kotetsu sat up, trepidation gnawing at his insides. He took the phone from Barnaby’s outstretched hand and flipped it open. His heart launched itself up into his throat as he saw the cascade of messages and missed calls.

“Thirteen missed calls,” he said out loud. “Ah, crap.”

He started flipping through them, laying back on the couch. Barnaby disappeared towards the kitchen, but Kotetsu was too distracted by his mounting dismay to really pay attention. Eight of the missed calls were from Kaede; two were from his mother; the remaining three were from Karina, Nathan, and Antonio, respectively. Kotetsu pressed his fingers to his temples.

“Do you have any painkillers?” _Or some whiskey,_ he thought dourly.

“I have ibuprofen,” came the answer, Barnaby’s voice floating to him from the kitchen. “Would you like some tea?”

“Please.” Kotetsu sank into the couch and resignedly started working his way through the messages and voicemails on his phone. He couldn’t seem to quell the anxiety squirming through his ribcage, as though he had suddenly been asked to come onstage alone and answer yet more probing, uncomfortable questions.

The voicemails from Kaede were all more or less the same: _DAD! The news says you’re dating Barnaby, what’s going on? Is this a weird joke? Is this another set-up? Do you need help? Call me back!_ **BEEP** _Dad, where ARE you? Grandma says you’ve dated men before, why didn’t you tell me? Are you really dating Barnaby? This is really weird. Call me back, okay?!_ **BEEP** _DAD WHY HAVEN’T YOU CALLED ME BACK?_ **BEEP!**

Barnaby came back into the room with two mugs of tea, setting one down on the coffee table by Kotetsu. Kotetsu was halfway through the messages on his phone at this point, having turned it on speaker and simply set the device down on the table, staring at it with a sour expression on his face.

Karina’s voice came on next, sounding at once indignant and incredibly wounded. _Is this some kind of joke?_ she demanded. _It’s not very funny. I don’t know why you wouldn’t tell m—tell us about this, but I thought you were better than this. You better call me back and tell me what’s going on right away, old man!_ Kotetsu put his face in his hands.

 **BEEP.** _Yooooo-hooooo! I bet you’re too busy having lots of sex to answer the phone right now, but when you and Handsome are done, you should call me back and tell me everything! And by the way, it’s pretty hurtful that you didn’t mention it before now, but I’ll forgive you if you give me all the details. Bye now!_

“I changed my mind,” Kotetsu said in a monotone. “I don’t need tea, I need whiskey.”

“Bad idea,” said Barnaby. 

**BEEP.** _Yo, Kaburagi! What’s the big idea, not telling me you and Barnaby were in a relationship? I thought we were friends, you know I’ve never cared that you date men too. When you’ve stopped dodging all the press, gimme a call. You owe me a beer._

“I didn’t know you dated men, too,” Barnaby said. He sounded surprised. And maybe a little annoyed. _Shit,_ thought Kotetsu. 

“I haven’t in awhile,” Kotetsu said. He lifted his face from where he’d been trying to glue his fingers into his temples, looking shyly over at Barnaby. “I tried a handful of times after—when I first started dating again, but nothing stuck. I gave up after awhile because I could never explain to anyone why I had weird bruises from ‘work.’”

At this, Barnaby smiled. “That’s right,” he said. “You couldn’t tell anyone that you were a Hero. That must have been difficult.”

Kotetsu shrugged, a gesture that encompassed not only his difficulty with his no-longer-secret identity but also his dating failures and his befuddlement with his current life in general. “Honestly, I probably tried too soon,” he said. “I was always comparing everyone to Tomoe, and it felt like I was trying to replace her, which I didn’t want to do. So I stopped trying.”

Barnaby nodded. “When was the last time you tried?”

Kotetsu thought for a moment. “Maybe… three years ago? Four? It’s been awhile.” He looked at Barnaby again, a sardonic smile appearing on his face despite himself. “I told you I didn’t care who you dated.”

“You did,” Barnaby acknowledged, his own smile warming a touch. “Well. I guess our predicament is not as far from reality as I had thought.”

“So long as it keeps Enigma off our backs,” Kotetsu said, because he couldn’t think of anything else that wasn’t diving into dangerous waters. He reached over and picked up his mug, sipping it gratefully.

They passed the rest of the evening in relative peace, both of them content to stick to other subjects. As Barnaby pointed out, even if they really _had_ been dating, they would still be Heroes with work to do and lives to deal with. So although in normal circumstances, the last thing Kotetsu would want to do would be to focus on work at home, today he was all too grateful to have something else to focus on.

* * * * *

“You know, this is actually not so bad,” Kotetsu said around a mouthful of salted pretzel.

“If you like baseball,” said Barnaby. He was sitting far too properly for someone supposedly relaxing at a baseball game, his spine very straight, surveying the field as though he expected to see their next enemies lined up on the green. 

“How can you not like baseball?” Kotetsu demanded. He would have managed to sound more wounded had he not still been busy swallowing his pretzel, but he did a passable job anyway. Barnaby glanced at him, a faint curl to his lip that said everything he needed to. “Come on! Televised games are boring, sure, but live games are the best thing ever.”

“Live games are certainly better than televised ones, it’s true,” said Barnaby, turning his gaze out towards the bustling park again. “But I dislike being here knowing that our coworkers are out fighting to save the city while we sit here doing literally nothing.”

Kotetsu let out a soft sigh. Barnaby wasn’t wrong, really. He and Kotetsu had been taken off active Hero duty for a few days so as to participate in the dog-and-pony-show of simultaneously having “come out” as two men in love and announcing their engagement. Before even arriving at the baseball game, they had appeared on a morning talk show watched by over seven million people and then done a meet-and-greet in the yard of a school they had helped save from a rogue NEXT a few weeks prior. 

(Kotetsu had actually really enjoyed that part. The kids were young, elementary school only, and most of them had been adorably in awe of the Heroes they had seen fighting outside their very own windows. It had been a long time since Kaede was this young, and Kotetsu endured a lot of hair-pulling and squealing in his ears from children who wanted pictures before it had been time to leave for the game. The kids, at least, weren’t the slightest bit bothered that the Heroes supposedly did more than just fight crime together, even if the rest of the public reaction had been over-the-top and mixed.)

And now, here they were, making a public appearance at a baseball game. They had already signed dozens of autographs, endured three yelling groups of fans (Kotetsu wasn’t sure whether they were excited or furious, honestly) and now were watching the home team put up a good fight for the visiting Tornadoes, three innings in. Lloyds had somehow scored them field-level box seats, directly behind home plate. They had a pair of guards at the entrance, which Kotetsu found _hilarious_ —he could easily handle any fans even without his NEXT powers, to say nothing of Barnaby—but it did mean they were at least able to sit and have a conversation without being assaulted for autographs.

“Look, I know you’d rather be out saving people,” Kotetsu said, as the home team took their places on the diamond for the top of the fourth. “Honestly, I would too. But baseball games are—they’re a sport, sure, but… when else do you have a good reason to just sit around and enjoy a sunny day?”

“You mean day-drinking and eating enough salt in one serving to induce cardiac arrest?” Barnaby said dryly.

“Oh, come on,” said Kotetsu in exasperation. “Aren’t you always the one telling me ‘this is part of our job’ when we’re doing something I think is boring? Well, this isn’t just part of our job, this is one of the perks. Look at all these people.” He threw his arm out, indicating the full stadium, encompassing the cheering and talking and general noises of humanity. “They’re here today enjoying themselves, because we help keep them safe, so they _can_ do stuff like this. Shouldn’t we be allowed to enjoy it sometimes too?”

Barnaby hesitated. His gaze flicked back to Kotetsu, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re awfully idealistic for an old man,” he remarked.

“And you’re terribly cynical for a cute little bunny,” Kotetsu shot back. Barnaby rolled his eyes and huffed, but when Kotetsu raised his beer bottle, Barnaby clinked his own against it, and Kotetsu was pleased to see he was smiling for real now. 

Just then there was a commotion down on the field in front of them, inducing a roar of approval from the crowd. Kotetsu turned his head to see, but the batter had already thrown his bat down onto the diamond in disgust, all the players jogging across the field as the teams switched. “What just happened?” he asked. He glanced up at the scoreboard, but the score hadn’t changed from the last time he’d looked.

“Two men on base with two outs, so the Tornadoes was set to score some runs if the man at bat got a hit,” said Barnaby shrewdly. “But Aoyagi got a backwards K off the man at bat and ended their turn.”

Kotetsu turned to stare at Barnaby. “He what?” he said. “Backwards K? What does that mean? How do you know that?”

Barnaby returned his stare, nonplussed. “He struck the batter out looking. I read up on the rules last night because I knew we’d be here today. I thought you liked baseball.”

“I do! I don’t know the rules very well, though. Struck out looking?”

Barnaby was looking at him steadily, studying him as though he were the only interesting person in the entire stadium of people. “Struck out looking means the ball went right by him in the strike zone and he wasn’t aware enough to even take a swing at it,” he said, as if reciting the definition from a baseball glossary. “How can you enjoy a sport when you don’t know anything about it?”

“I know _some_ things,” said Kotetsu. “But since when do you have to be an expert on something to be able to enjoy it? I can tell when my team is winning, and I have good company to share it with, so that’s enough for me.”

At this, Barnaby broke into a small smile again. “Of course,” he said. “You’re right. I’m glad I have you to remind me of that, it’s… I forget that kind of thing sometimes.”

Kotetsu smiled back, feeling that sweet-painful tightness in his chest again at Barnaby looking at him like that, but jaunty music started up on the speakers just then, distracting them both. Kotetsu looked up and saw that the huge screen at the corner of the field had changed, showing what appeared to be live footage of fans in the seats. _KISS CAM!_ said huge letters above the screen. 

“What’s this?” Barnaby asked, brow furrowing. 

Kotetsu laughed. “It’s the kiss-cam,” he said. “It’s just a dumb thing they do during breaks to keep the crowd entertained. If the camera focuses on you, you have to—” As if on cue, the couple on screen stopped freaking out and turned towards each other, kissing and grabbing each other’s hands as the rest of the crowd cheered. The camera cut to a new section of stands, where the same thing was repeated with a new couple. “You kiss,” Kotetsu finished, grinning. “See?”

“I see,” said Barnaby, though he sounded dubious. His eyes widened as the camera cut away again, and it took Kotetsu a few moments to register why his partner’s expression had suddenly shifted—because up there on screen was an image of Kotetsu and Barnaby, with the words _Pucker up, Heroes!_ in that same jaunty font just beneath. 

Kotetsu froze. Barnaby did not. “Smile, Tiger,” said Barnaby, and grabbed his hand, tugging Kotetsu towards him over the arm of the seat. Kotetsu had just a few moments to register that the noise in the park had just ratcheted up about three thousand decibels and that Barnaby was leaning in, his eyes very _very_ green, and then Barnaby was—

Barnaby was kissing him. 

It lasted only a few seconds, but those moments seemed to elongate like pulled taffy. The roar of the audience around them seemed to make a tunnel around Kotetsu, like a wall of sound, but all he was aware of was Barnaby’s warm, dry lips on his. He could taste the salt on Barnaby’s upper lip from the pretzel piece Kotetsu had forced on him a few minutes ago, could smell Barnaby’s hair as it fell in his face (that faint scent of coconut again), Barnaby’s hand wrapped firmly around Kotetsu’s own, holding him tight. Then Barnaby leaned back, his face flushed, a self-conscious smile appearing, and still all Kotetsu could do was stare dumbly, his heart hammering away in his chest like an out-of-control piece of construction equipment. 

“Uh,” said Kotetsu lamely. Barnaby squeezed Kotetsu’s hand where he was still holding it and mouthed _smile and wave_ , and Kotetsu lifted his other hand, waving mechanically as he tried to plaster a smile in place. 

He had a hard time concentrating on the baseball game after that. He was too busy focusing on the hand of his that Barnaby was still holding, their fingers laced together, a faint, contented smile on his handsome face. Kotetsu only wondered what Lloyds and Agnes would have to say about their impromptu first public kiss. Their first kiss _ever_ , a small voice in the back of his head told him, but Kotetsu was doing his best to ignore that voice, because if he paid too much attention to it he might start freaking out and never stop.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnaby and Kotetsu have to double down on their fake relationship; discussions of how best to do that ensue, with some predictable wrinkles (and some not-so-predictable ones). Kotetsu is starting to wonder whether he can really do this or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another early chapter update! Mostly because I am not sure when I'll be home the next day or two, so I figured better safe than sorry.

Kotetsu didn’t have to wait very long to find out what their bosses thought of their duo’s little improv moment. They were escorted back to Hero headquarters in the second half of the ninth inning (escaping before the post-game exodus) and whisked immediately up to Lloyds’s office. 

“What the hell was that kiss?” Agnes demanded, before the door had even finished shutting behind them. 

“I thought—” Kotetsu began, but Agnes kept right on talking.

“—Kotetsu, you looked like someone had slapped you in the face with a codfish! That wasn’t the romantic kiss of a newly-engaged couple at ALL!”

Kotetsu gaped, momentarily speechless. Beside him, Barnaby adjusted his glasses, inclining his head slightly. “Forgive us, please,” he said, as patient and even-keeled as ever. “We had no warning that we would be kissing in public today, so we were unprepared.”

“Everything else was fine,” said Lloyds, who had appeared just as cranky as Agnes upon their initial entrance. Barnaby’s apology seemed to mollify him somewhat, at least. “You two are naturals at seeming like a couple, so good job on that, at least.”

“But we didn’t—we aren’t doing anything differently—” 

“You need to practice more,” said Agnes, ignoring Kotetsu’s faint protest a second time. “The response to your announcement has been incredible. It’s even more popular than we had remotely hoped for, so you can’t do anything to jeopardize it now and risk blowing the whole thing.”

Barnaby frowned. “I thought we were doing this to prevent needless deaths of civilians,” he said.

Lloyds waved his hand. “Of course we did, your sponsor would never have agreed to it otherwise,” he said. “But now that we’ve taken this step, we have to commit to it. The two of you have blown past the level of popularity you achieved immediately after defeating Maverick, and you may end up breaking even more records, if we play our cards right.”

“We need to talk about the long-term plan for this,” said Kotetsu, finally managing to get a full sentence out. To his relief, Barnaby nodded, glancing over at him in confirmation.

“The long-term plan is up in the air,” said Agnes, “depending on how things play out with Enigma and where your ‘relationship’ is when that happens. But the current plan is to keep going as-is, and that’s what you are going to focus on. We want the two of you to commit to your new status full-time.”

“Full-time?” repeated Barnaby, sounding as startled as Kotetsu felt.

“Method acting,” said Lloyds. “If you treat it like an act that you only maintain in public, there’s a much greater risk that you will slip up—like today, with that kiss. Luckily, the news has been reading it as Tiger’s old-fashioned private attitude being taken by surprise, and most outlets think it was charming, but you can’t get away with that a second time.”

“So what does that _mean_?” Kotetsu demanded. “Method acting?”

“You act like a couple even when you’re not in public, even when you’re alone in your own homes,” said Lloyds. “I realize this is a lot to ask, but you both volunteered for this course of action before we even decided to go down this road, and I know you both understand what’s at stake if we deviate from it now. Once the threat has been neutralized, we can discuss the best way to disengage or deflect the situation so that you can return to a normal life, but for now please bear with us.”

“But—what if—what—”

“Yes, of course,” said Barnaby, and bowed low, from the waist. Kotetsu glanced over at him in baffled frustration, but glancing back at Agnes and Lloyds’s stormcloud faces made him bite his tongue.

“Oh, alright,” he said crankily, and threw his hands in the air. It wasn’t as if he had any better ideas for how to get out of this situation, after all. 

“Excellent,” said Agnes. “We’ve arranged for you two to have the rest of the day and evening off, for ‘personal reasons,’ so that you can practice this. You’ll be appearing at a fundraising gala this weekend, as a couple, so be prepared for that. And make sure you dress appropriately.”

“We will,” said Barnaby before Kotetsu could answer with _so, chapstick on our lips for all the ass-kissing we’ll be doing?_ like the sarcastic jerk he felt like. He managed to keep his trap shut after that, mostly, letting Barnaby do the responding while Lloyds and Agnes rattled off their agenda.

He could do it; he’d volunteered for it, after all. But that didn’t mean he had to _like_ everything.

* * * * *

Kotetsu and Barnaby were sent home with strict orders to not interact with anyone else until they had better practiced their new roles. Kotetsu insisted on stopping by his own apartment—he did have a few sets of clothes at Barnaby’s, since they were partners and spent a lot of time together, but he could only wear the same shirt so many days in a row before things started to smell not so fresh and flowery. Barnaby parked the motorcycle and came inside with him, since he would attract more attention idling around outside than he would leaving his motorcycle parked at the curb. Kotetsu grabbed the mail on their way in the door and went to the bedroom, distractedly flipping through it just to check to see if there were any bills or notices that needed his immediate attention when he saw it.

There was a nondescript white envelope, with no return address. The stamp looked like one you’d find at the convenience store, and the handwriting was neat, block letters and unfamiliar. Kotetsu frowned. He dropped the rest of the mail on the bed and examined the envelope more closely; after a moment he noticed that it had the Hero TV Courier stamp on it that indicated this was mail delivered by their private courier service. 

Kotetsu’s frown deepened. The courier service was rarely used, usually for missives between the Heroes when they were planning someone’s birthday and wanted it to be a surprise, something like that. But fanmail was almost never sent to their homes; it was part of their job, so they dealt with it at work, during their time at their desks. So why was this at his house?

“Barnaby,” he said loudly. He heard the creak of riding leathers, and Barnaby came in through the bedroom door, his hair still fashionably ruffled from the helmet.

“Is something the matter?” he asked. Kotetsu passed him the letter and Barnaby took it, turning it over in his hands with a faint frown of his own. “No return address…”

“Why did it get sent here? And why is it addressed to me and not both of us?” That was the part that was bothering Kotetsu. He didn’t _not_ get fanmail, especially since he’d become much more popular again since partnering with Barnaby and their subsequent return from hiatus, but something about this letter seemed off. “Something’s weird.”

“I agree,” Barnaby said. He glanced up at Kotetsu. “Open it and see what it says.”

Kotetsu nodded, accepting the letter back from Barnaby. He ripped it open with fingers that might or might not have been shaking just a little, an unpleasant tightness in his throat and chest. Inside was a simple letter on lined notebook paper, the kind you might find in any drugstore. There was only a few lines of text written on it; Kotetsu read them aloud, though Barnaby was looking over his shoulder and could easily read for himself.

“Dear Tiger, I’m glad that you and Barnaby have finally seen the error of your ways and decided to come clean with the world at large. It’s refreshing to see big-shot celebrities that can be persuaded with reason. I will be monitoring the two of you closely. I am confident that neither of you will want to disappoint me. Enigma.”

Kotetsu looked over at Barnaby, whose handsome face was dark, his brows drawing down together. “You were right,” Barnaby said after a moment. “They’re being careful about going undetected, but we should turn this in to headquarters anyway, see if forensics can dig something up. I don’t like how this person seems to be focusing on you, especially since before he was so vehement about the two of us being honest about our ‘relationship.’”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tease Barnaby about being jealous, but the focus was not something Kotetsu particularly enjoyed or appreciated; it was like joking that your partner was jealous you were getting stalked and they weren’t. “I guess I should be glad they haven’t started sending me body parts as tokens of affection,” he said instead, half-heartedly.

Barnaby raised an eyebrow at him. “Sorry,” said Kotetsu. “It’s, just, it’s…”

“It’s creepy,” said Barnaby, not unsympathetically. “But it’s probably better that we’re staying together right now, anyway. Almost done packing up?”

“Won’t take very long,” said Kotetsu. He let Barnaby take the letter and stow it safely away, heard the tell-tale beeping of him making an outgoing phone call, and went back to packing a bag to stay at Barnaby’s for… well, for awhile, he supposed.

As he packed, the question of what they would do once this NEXT was apprehended and there was no need to stay in this fake relationship any longer loomed in his mind once again, but instead of the relief he had expected, the idea just made him vaguely uneasy, even lonely. He couldn’t imagine this would be an easy thing to walk away from, not without serious consequences for him and Barnaby. What if it meant they had to dissolve their partnership?

The idea hit him with such an unexpected pang of loss that he had to stop in the middle of folding a pair of pants, the corners of his eyes watering traitorously. He shouldn’t be so affected by that idea, dammit. He’d walked away from Hero work once already, and so had Barnaby. Yes, that year had been difficult and it had been wonderful to return to the work he’d dedicated his life to, but—but the percentage of his Hero work that he’d spent with Barnaby was very small, compared to his overall career.

But now he couldn’t imagine doing this without his partner.

“Kotetsu?” Kotetsu looked up, too quickly. Barnaby was standing in the doorway, watching him with a quizzical look on his face. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, it’s fine!” Kotestu grinned broadly and raised his hand in a jaunty wave, hoping he didn’t sound too forced. “I was just thinking it’s just as well I don’t have a green thumb. If I had any plants they’d all die while I’m staying with you.”

“Ah.” Barnaby looked nonplussed at this, his brow furrowing again as though he did not quite know what to say. Shit.

“I’m hungry,” Kotetsu said quickly, not wanting to give his partner time to pry further. “Should we pick something up on the way home, or do you want me to make you dinner?”

“Do I want fried rice, or do I want literally anything else, you mean?” remarked Barnaby, a grin appearing despite the puzzlement still apparent.

“Hey, if you don’t want fried rice you can just say so—!”

“I like your fried rice,” said Barnaby, still grinning slightly. “But you made me breakfast this morning, so it’s my turn to cook, don’t you think? Although we’d have to stop by a grocery store, so if you’re really hungry, maybe just picking up some take-out would be better.”

Kotetsu hesitated, torn. Then he remembered that he still needed to call his daughter and mother back, to say nothing of return the messages of all their fellow Heroes, and his heart sank. “Let’s just pick up take-out,” he said resignedly.

“Wow, I didn’t think my cooking was that bad,” said Barnaby.

“It’s not! I just—I was thinking about all the people we have to lie to. Our friends and family.”

Barnaby’s face softened. “If they knew, they would understand,” he said, voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Remember that we’re doing this to protect them, too. If anyone is going to be a target for this person, it needs to be us.”

“You’re right,” said Kotetsu. He let out a sigh, resuming folding the pants he was still holding in his hands. They needed to get going.

Barnaby crossed the room to Kotetsu, resting a hand on Kotetsu’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing gently against the back of Kotetsu’s neck. The light touch sent a shiver through Kotetsu, who was suddenly all too aware of the spot where Barnaby’s skin touched his. Kotetsu’s hands slowed again, feeling his skin prickle with sensitivity. “Let’s get noodles at that place you like,” Barnaby said, still so quiet. This close, it was like another point of contact against Kotetsu’s skin, making his hair stand on end.

Kotetsu was quite certain that he didn’t used to be so aware of the sound of Barnaby’s voice or the warmth of his hands. He forced the heightened sensitivity to one side, turning his head to smile at Barnaby, distractedly registering the worry in his partner’s eyes. “Okay,” he said, then added, lighter, “Don’t think you’re getting out of making me dinner, though. We’re engaged now, after all.”

Barnaby’s eyes widened. “That’s right,” he said, his voice warming. _Fuck_ this was unfair! Had Barnaby’s voice always made Kotetsu’s stomach drop like that? “I’ll pick out something really good to make for us tomorrow night, huh?”

“You better,” said Kotetsu, because his mouth was faster than his brain. For a few moments he and Barnaby just stared at each other, Kotetsu painfully aware of how close their mouths were and of the kiss they’d shared in front of what felt like half the city earlier that day. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck— “Or you’ll get stuck with me making fried rice,” Kotetsu added, breaking the moment in an act of sheer desperation.

Barnaby laughed, his whole face creasing in mirth. The hand on the back of Kotetsu’s neck fell away, Kotetsu’s stomach easing a little as an unfamiliar longing replaced the tension. “Finish packing up so we can go,” Barnaby said, and if he was feeling any of the fraught tension between them his voice didn’t let on. “I’ll call the noodle place. You want your usual?”

“Yes please,” said Kotetsu. “And dumplings!”

“And dumplings,” repeated Barnaby, already getting out his phone. “You got it.”

He turned away, leaving Kotetsu to finish packing his bag and recover something of his composure. Christ, he really needed to get it together. This whole situation was starting to make him crazy. If he didn’t know better, Kotetsu would have thought that he really was developing feelings for his young, handsome partner.

But that was stupid, he knew. And besides, even if in some parallel universe there was a Kotetsu T. Kaburagi who was stupid enough to fall for the King of Heroes, the chances of Barnaby ever reciprocating were vanishingly small. No, he was just suffering from stress and the suggestive situation they were in, that was all. Kotetsu always had been a soft touch when it came to romance.

That was what he told himself, anyway.

* * * * *

The noodles and dumplings turned out to be the best part of the evening.

Kotetsu should have known that putting off calling Kaede would result in him getting an earful from his headstrong daughter, and he wasn’t wrong. Equal parts incredulous, wounded, and jealous—none of which she really needed to say out loud, but did anyway—Kaede managed to not only berate him for hiding the truth from his family but also drag a promise out of him that he’d bring Barnaby home for a visit very soon, so that they could all meet him properly as Kotetsu’s intended. 

By the time Kotetsu finally hung up the phone, he’d drunk three cups of gen mai cha and was trying to ignore another impending headache. He was getting them a lot this week, it seemed. Barnaby was curled up in the easy chair nearby with his lapdesk atop his thighs, perusing a stack of paperwork. He glanced up when Kotetsu got off the phone, his expression sympathetic.

“That was awful,” Kotetsu told him, and ground the base of his palms into his eyes, groaning.

“She’s very protective of you,” Barnaby said. His tone was wry, although since Kotetsu was busy making stars burst behind his own eyelids he couldn’t exactly check the tone of voice against his facial expression.

“It’s not just that.” Kotetsu dropped his hands, eyes still shut. “She’s—she’s a really big fan of yours.”

There was a pause. Kotetsu cracked one eyelid in order to take a look at his partner, and caught Barnaby’s bemused expression. Kotetsu smiled ruefully. “When I first went home to visit her back when I was starting to lose my power, I… might or might not have snuck into her room to see what she was into. She had at least a dozen magazines with your face on it.”

“Oh,” said Barnaby, in the exact tone of voice of someone who has just been given a piece of information he has no idea how to respond to. “Wait. You snuck into her room? Isn’t that—”

“A huge invasion of privacy,” Kotetsu cut in, slightly exasperated. “Yes, I’m not going to win any parent of the year awards, you don’t have to tell me, it’s not a news flash. It’s not something I would do again, but I was… well.”

“I still wish you had told me sooner,” Barnaby said, his voice softer now. The gentleness in his voice was actually worse than being yelled at, and Kotetsu fought the urge to squirm. The memory of the period when his Hundred Power had first started to shorten was not a pleasant one. 

“I know I didn’t exactly cover myself in glory,” he began, but Bunny shook his head.

“It’s not—” Barnaby blew air out of his nose in momentary frustration, his fringe fluttering above his forehead before re-settling. “You weren’t any more pathetic than I was. Maverick manipulated me for years, and it took nearly killing you to figure out what he was really after. But…” Barnaby trailed off, leaning over and setting his lap-desk aside with the careful deliberation that told Kotetsu his partner was wrestling with the right words before he let them out.

“You have this really frustrating habit of thinking that you should never ‘burden’ anyone with your problems, so instead of leaning on the people who want to be there for you, you try to carry everything yourself. But it’s hard to think about you suffering by yourself when I could have been there for you.”

Kotetsu could feel his face burning, but for once even his stupid comebacks failed him. Barnaby finally looked up at him, and Kotetsu could have sworn Barnaby was embarrassed at such a sentimental outburst. “Forgive me,” Barnaby said after a moment, “perhaps I spoke out of turn—”

“No, you’re right,” Kotetsu said, surprising even himself. He sat up, wincing as his back and neck cracked audibly at the position change. “Antonio says that too. And I really should be better at it by now, since we’re partners, but...”

Barnaby smiled a little at this. “Did your wife have to badger you into sharing things with her, too?”

“Tomoe?” Kotetsu rubbed the back of his head. “Well… yes and no. I met her in high school, was part of it, so at that age you don’t really have that much to hide to start with. Pretty much the only thing I had to hide was that I was a NEXT, and she found out about that almost right away.”

“So what was the flip side? ‘Yes and no,’ you said.”

Kotetsu wrinkled his nose. “Well, it’s just—you know, it’s not very manly to go crying to your wife every time something bothers you.” Barnaby raised an eyebrow at him, and Kotetsu let out an irritable huff. “Come on! You have to know about this.”

“I really don’t,” said Barnaby.

“You do all those ads and spots on TV because you’re the big Hero every man wants to be like,” said Kotetsu, only half-joking. Barnaby’s other eyebrow raised to join its fellow, both of them threatening to disappear into his hairline.

“It’s just advertising, Kotetsu,” Barnaby said, a touch of reproof in his voice now. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“So you have no trouble telling your partner that you’re depressed because a villain you arrested was acquitted by the courts for a crime you _know_ he did?”

“I really wouldn’t know,” said Barnaby. “This situation with you is the closest I’ve ever come to an actual relationship.”

Kotetsu stared. “You’ve never dated _anyone_?” he demanded. “But why not? It can’t possibly be because someone wouldn’t want you. Not if they have a working pair of eyes!”

He blurted this out before he’d had time to give it even a passing thought—not that he was really attempting to maintain the illusion of heterosexuality with literally anyone at this point—but Barnaby’s mouth twisted into the lopsided smile that Kotetsu was so fond of, the expression that said Barnaby was trying _not_ to smile and failing. “Thank you,” he said. “But surely you know that attraction is not really the factor that’s important here.”

“Oh, don’t brag or anything,” Kotetsu exclaimed, laughing.

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Bunny knows he’s hot, don’t bother telling him, it’s old news!” Kotetsu ducked, cackling as Barnaby grabbed another pillow and threw it at his head.

“I _just meant_ that I was focused on other things!” Barnaby had turned red, a sight so rare and wonderful that Kotetsu dove for his phone so as to memorialize it forever and ever. “What are you doing?!”

Kotetsu rolled onto his side, aiming the camera on his phone at Barnaby. Barnaby’s eyes widened with comprehension just in time for Kotetsu to snap the photo. “New home screen,” said Kotetsu gleefully. Barnaby dove at him, wrestling for the phone. Kotetsu squawked and tried to roll out of the way, succeeding only in toppling off the couch with Barnaby on top of him.

They wrestled madly for a few moments, Kotetsu laughing helplessly as Barnaby grappled with him, trying to pry the phone of Kotetsu’s death grip. Finally Kotetsu played a trump card by shoving his phone down the front of his pants into his boxers. “HA!!”

Barnaby had just succeeded in pinning Kotetsu’s other hand to the floor, sitting astride his hips so as to neutralize his flailing legs, his other hand hovering awkwardly by Kotetsu’s stomach where it had tried to intercept Kotetsu’s. Now he sat up with a huff, his face still red, chest heaving slightly. “That is disgusting,” he said hotly.

Kotetsu waggled his eyebrows at Barnaby by way of response. “Don’t lie, fiance,” he crooned. “It’s okay, you can stop pretending you don’t want what’s in my pants now!”

Barnaby’s eyes flew open, his face reddening worse, hot and splotchy like he’d just sprinted a mile. “You are impossible,” he said, and for a moment Kotetsu thought for sure he’d crossed the line and that Barnaby was about to get up and go lock himself in his room or something. Barnaby went to get up, and an apology was on the tip of Kotetsu’s tongue as his partner backed away—and then Barnaby lunged for Kotetsu’s pants, grabbing the belt loops and yanking hard, trying to pull Kotetsu’s trousers off.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” shrieked Kotetsu.

“Calling your bluff,” Barnaby said, his face manic.

The next five minutes were a hot mess of Kotetsu yelling, clutching his own waistband, and trying to kick Barnaby off him without also dislodging his pants from his person. Barnaby had apparently mastered the art of dirty fighting (which was, okay, something Kotetsu actually already knew, but he’d never had _used_ against him like this in such an obvious display of _treason_ ) and so all of Kotetsu’s flailing kicks were masterfully blocked. It was just lucky they weren’t really drinking tonight, or at least not yet, because the coffee table got overturned in the frantic struggle for de-pantsing.

Kotetsu had no idea what had possessed him to act like such a lunatic. Some part of him was aghast, astonished he could even joke about this subject when it had been giving him such anxiety—but the rest of him was too relieved and delighted to see Barnaby as out of sorts as Kotetsu had been feeling to be able to pass up the opportunity to tweak him about it a little.

The fight (“fight”) ended when Barnaby’s sneaky, prying hands managed to get Kotetsu’s belt-buckle undone. “STOP I GIVE UP!” Kotetsu yelled. Barnaby paused, his sweaty face alight with triumph—his glasses had come off at some point, which was fucking distracting—and then seemed to change his mind, tugging threateningly on Kotetsu’s pant legs. “Stoooop!”

“Delete the photo,” Barnaby said.

“No!”

“Delete it or I take your pants off to get the phone!”

“So mean,” Kotetsu whined, still clutching at his unbuckled belt and waistband. “Come on, I’m not going to show it to anyone!”

Barnaby narrowed his eyes. “Promise?”

“I promise,” said Kotetsu. Truthfully he would have promised a lot in that moment, although he couldn’t have said exactly why; some part of him was afraid of what might happen if Barnaby actually managed to drag his pants off him, but there was another, increasingly vocal part of him that wanted to see exactly what would happen.

“Alright,” said Barnaby, and finally relinquished his grip on Kotetsu’s pants. “But make sure you wash your phone off before you use it again, alright?”

Kotetsu thought seriously about asking Barnaby if he was jealous of the phone, and decided against it. “Alright, alright,” he grumbled instead, sitting upright and buttoning his pants up again. “Jeez, it’s like you think I can’t look after myself.”

“I know you can’t,” said Barnaby. “I’ve seen your apartment.”

“That is a low blow, even for you.”

“Seriously, fried rice five nights a week, it’s a wonder your heart hasn’t collapsed in on itself at this point.”

“I’m not _that_ old,” Kotetsu said, trying to sound pissy but failing with flying colors.

“I know you aren’t.” Barnaby retrieved his glasses from where they’d fallen off on the couch, sliding them onto his face and adjusting their fit as he glanced back at Kotetsu. “Even though you insist on acting like you’re three feet from death half the time.” Kotetsu found he had nothing useful to say to that, but Barnaby didn’t give him much time to flounder; he came over, extending a hand to help Kotetsu clamber up from the floor, and continued, “Now if you’re sure you’re done losing our wrestling match—”

“—hey!”

“—I was thinking that we ought to actually sit down and talk about the things we need to practice if we’re going to be a convincing couple.”

Kotetsu let out a breath. “You’re probably right,” he said.

“As I said before, I don’t have much experience in this area, so I hope you don’t mind if I pick your brain a little about this.”

Kotetsu tried to resist, he really did, but he couldn’t help himself. “You’ve really never dated anyone?” he asked. Barnaby cast him a sidelong look. “I’m not—I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“I just was never that interested in it,” Barnaby said. His voice was casual, but something in his tone had changed, however subtly, and Kotetsu cursed himself inwardly for making his partner self-conscious.

“You’re just so good at everything that I guess I assumed you wouldn’t have any trouble with this, either,” Kotetsu said, because it was the first thing to come into his head and it happened to be true. Barnaby glanced at him again, sharply, but said nothing. Wondering how he’d gone so quickly from goofy to asshole again, Kotetsu could do naught but continue. “Anyway, if our only guide for this is based on my experiences, then we’re _really_ in trouble.”

Barnaby’s shoulders relaxed slightly, a faint smile appearing on his face, there and then gone. “Although I never had the privilege of meeting Tomoe, I feel confident in saying I’m sure that’s not true,” said Barnaby. “Either way, we have to practice.”

“Right, of course,” said Kotetsu. ‘Practicing’ felt like the weirdest and most unnatural thing in the world to him at that moment, but just about anything was preferable to continuing to make Barnaby feel insecure about himself. “What, um. What should we…. Talk about?”

Barnaby reached over, retrieving his tablet and tapping it to turn it on. The screen immediately flared to life, a typed-up list appearing on screen. “I came up with a few things to start with while you were on the phone with Kaede,” he said.

“Of course you did,” said Kotetsu, and before Barnaby could make another protest he was reaching over, taking the tablet from his hands. “Let me have a look.”

He scanned through the list, muttering under his breath as he read the items to himself. “Kissing… so embarrassing. I’m a good kisser, I’ll have you know. Hand-holding… well, that’s not exactly very hard. Even a washed-up Hero like me can manage that.”

“Kotetsu,” Barnaby said in exasperation. Kotetsu waved his hand, still scanning the list, frowning a little to himself.

The document wasn’t very long, perhaps twelve items total. But while a few things on there made sense to him, like ‘kissing’ and ‘physical affection,’ several other items gave Kotetsu pause. “Okay,” he said finally. “Look, no offense, but a lot of these aren’t—accurate.”

“What do you mean?” Barnaby asked.

Kotetsu gestured at the tablet. “Well— ‘eat spaghetti noodles and wind up kissing when you eat the same noodle’? I’ve never done that. I don’t know anyone who’s done that. That’s not a thing real couples do, it’s a… silly thing movies do. Same with ‘kissing in the rain’ and ‘kissing in the middle of a lake.’ People don’t really actually do that. At least, I never have.”

Barnaby blinked, reaching up automatically to push his glasses up his nose, although as far as Kotetsu could tell they didn’t actually move. “This is why I said we were going to have to depend on your experience,” he said after a moment. “Can you explain what is wrong with those?”

Oh, boy. Kotetsu sighed inwardly. “There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with them,” he said slowly. “It’s more that—they’re sort of generic. There are probably _some_ couples that have kissed in the rain and thought it was romantic, but Tomoe and I tried it one time, just because we were waiting for the bus and we—we had just gotten engaged. But I was so much taller than her that the rain kept getting in her eyes, so it wasn’t romantic, it was just annoying. Also, you wear glasses. How much fun is it to try to see through them when they’re wet?”

“Ah,” said Barnaby, sounding a little chagrined. “That’s… true.”

“Romantic gestures are more—unique to the people they pass between.” Kotetsu hesitated, trying to find a good way to explain or at least illustrate this. “Uh, okay, so. Let’s see here…. Once Tomoe surprised me with tickets to a touring exhibition on Mr. Legend, because she knew I was such a huge fan of his. And it was extra sweet because I knew she passed up a big floral exhibition that was happening on the same day that she’d wanted to go to. And she used to love this TV show called ‘Heartbeats,’ especially the main couple, so I made us matching costumes of the couple and we wore them to a festival together, even though we looked kind of silly.”

Barnaby’s eyebrows went up further still. “ _You_ made them?”

“My mother helped a lot,” Kotetsu amended. Barnaby smiled. “Either way—”

“Yes, I see what you’re getting at,” said Barnaby. He leaned forward and took the tablet back from Kotetsu, looking over it thoughtfully. 

“Oh, also.” Kotetsu broke off, feeling a little bossy, but when Barnaby glanced up and gestured for him to go on, he gathered himself and continued. “Romantic gestures are good, but those are more occasional things, not every day stuff. A good relationship has a lot more everyday sorts of things that help make it last.”

“Can you elaborate?” Barnaby was watching him attentively, as though he was in class and Kotetsu was the instructor. Kotetsu had a brief but powerful mental image of himself trying to keep any sort of composure while teaching a class if he had a gaze that intense leveled at him from a student who looked like Barnaby, and had to physically shake himself to drag himself away from the fantasy.

He took a deep breath, ignoring the raised eyebrow Barnaby gave him. “Sure,” he said. “Uh, let’s see here. …We had a lot of routines. Like—Tomoe and I always tried to eat our meals together whenever we could—two meals a day if we could, but at _least_ one. I used to make her breakfast, because she took a little longer getting ready in the morning than I did, and that way we could eat and leave at the same time.”

Kotetsu ticked off items on his fingers as he spoke, his voice warming as the memories washed over him. “There was little stuff too—like I knew she hated onions, so I always tried to find places to eat that would leave them out or didn’t cook with them in the first place. And she would pack lunches for me so I had something good to eat at work and wouldn’t just eat garbage—”

“A reasonable concern,” murmured Barnaby. 

“—When she was pregnant, I used to massage her feet and ankles for her because they’d get sore and swollen,” continued Kotetsu, virtuously choosing to ignore that last comment. “And—and we tried to never go to bed angry, but she wouldn’t take anything I said after 10 pm seriously—she called it ‘the maudlin hour.’ And sometimes she’d text me and say she needed a mid-day laugh, but what she actually meant was that she wanted me to come sneak home to meet her and—” 

Once again Kotetsu broke off, realizing too late that maybe this was oversharing. He felt himself turning red, and for lack of anything better to do, he cast around for his drink, only to discover to his dismay that it was empty. “Sorry,” he said awkwardly. “I kind of… got carried away.”

Barnaby let out a soft laugh, which for some reason comforted Kotetsu enough that he was finally able to look up at his friend. “It’s fine,” Barnaby said, and smiled. There was something so sweet in his face that Kotetsu found himself unable to resist smiling back. “You’ve been really lonely without her, haven’t you?”

Kotetsu opened his mouth to brush off that question, but what came out was a soft sigh. “Yeah,” he admitted, quietly. 

“I should have realized,” Barnaby mused. “It’s cruel to make you do this, isn’t it?”

But Kotetsu shook his head. “No, it’s fine,” he said. “I got lucky, really. I have a job I love, and a great kid, and a great partner. And I met the love of my life and got to spend almost twelve years with her.”

Again Barnaby gave him that faint smile, but something about it was different—almost sad, Kotetsu thought. “You’re right,” he said. “Everyone should be so lucky.”

To this, Kotetsu found he had nothing to say.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kotetsu and Barnaby's teammates are tired of being put off, and Kotetsu gets a lot more than he bargained for. (NSFW. This is one of 3 chapters that earns the E for Explicit.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third early update in a row. I'm off to study for gigantic exams; enjoy!

They talked a bit longer about various things they needed to practice in order to be a convincing couple, managing all the while to dance around the subject that Lloyds and Agnes had specifically mentioned: kissing more convincingly. Kotetsu knew that Barnaby was too much of a perfectionist to let that detail slide, but before they had actually gotten back round to it, a text message interrupted them.

Barnaby’s phone beeped, and Barnaby broke off what he was saying to lean over and glance at it. He frowned. 

“What’s up?” Kotetsu asked.

“Karina said that she and some of the others are on their way here, and ‘not to try to leave before we get there,’” said Barnaby. He adjusted his glasses, glancing back up at Kotetsu. “I was wondering when they’d get fed up with being avoided.”

“Oh,” said Kotetsu. The sudden stab of anxiety must have shown in his face, because Barnaby got up and came to sit beside him on the couch. “Ah, I’m fine…”

“No, you’re not,” said Barnaby, not unkindly. “I know you don’t like lying to our friends, but you understand that we have to, right?”

“Come on,” said Kotetsu. He hunched his shoulders, as if to ward off the uncomfortable situation. “There’s no way you actually think that one of them is working with Enigma!”

“Of course I don’t. But you remember that Jake could read minds, right? And that shapeshifter who was stealing from backstage? It’s very likely that this rogue NEXT has some kind of illusion or mind-reading ability that’s helped him evade detection for this long.” Barnaby put a hand on Kotetsu’s shoulder, a gesture that only somewhat mitigated the scowl Kotetsu could feel on his own face. “None of our friends would ever willingly betray us, but the fewer people know the truth, the better.”

“You should do all the talking, then,” said Kotetsu, slumping in defeat. Barnaby put his arm around Kotetsu’s shoulders, tugging him over to lean against Barnaby, which Kotetsu did without a second thought. “If I say anything I’ll screw it up and they’ll know I’m lying.”

“I can try,” said Barnaby. “But please back me up, okay?”

Kotetsu looked up at him, and found he was able to smile a little despite himself. Barnaby smiled back. He was only a few inches away, close enough to kiss. Kotetsu flashed on the moment earlier today in the ballpark, the moment before they kissed when Barnaby’s face had been this close to his, and felt his face coloring again, flushing ruddy with heat even beneath his dark complexion. 

The doorbell rang, and Kotetsu jumped. “That was fast,” remarked Barnaby, and before Kotetsu could even register what to do—they hadn’t even had time to talk about what they were going to say—Barnaby leaned in for the second time in one day and pressed a soft, warm kiss to Kotetsu’s mouth. 

“Why, what are you—”

“Practice,” said Barnaby lightly, and got up to go answer the door, leaving Kotetsu stammering and red-faced on the couch. 

Kotetsu could hear Nathan’s “YOO-HOO! Handsome!” all the way from the couch in the living room before Barnaby had even finished opening the door. There was a chorus of voices—Kotetsu thought he could make out Karina, Nathan, and Antonio, which sounded about right. Not that Pao-Lin and Ivan and Keith didn’t care, but they weren’t as… nosy as the three at Barnaby’s door. 

Which was just as well. Kotetsu thought he might have curled up and died if faced with the entire First League of Heroes. 

“Come in,” said Barnaby, and no matter what he was thinking privately, he sounded pleasant enough. Kotetsu sat up straighter and hoped he looked …. Believable, or maybe at least not like a total hot mess. Moments later the group at the front door trooped in: Nathan first, looking as over-the-top and somehow smug as they always did, then Antonio in a button-down and jeans, and then Karina and Barnaby last. Karina had a look on her face that Kotetsu recognized all too well from Kaede, a look that said he was about to get a serious-dressing down unless he said exactly what she wanted to hear. Too bad he had no idea what that was.

“We were half-expecting to get here and find you two gone,” said Antonio, mild in comparison to the stormclouds on Karina’s face. 

“We would have found you anyway,” added Nathan, waggling their eyebrows at Kotetsu.

“Start talking,” said Karina hotly. “What’s going _on_? Are you two really dating? Is this some kind of scam? Why haven’t you told us anything?!”

Kotetsu had managed to scrape together half of a passable apology, but just looking at his friends’ faces made it all fly out the window. “I—that is—it isn’t—I’m sorry,” he stammered, the words falling out of his mouth like so many useless pebbles. 

Some of the helplessness he was feeling must have shown on his face, because moments later Barnaby had edged around their guests and was sitting down next to Kotetsu on the couch. _Right_ next to him, actually, his hip pressed to Kotetsu’s, his arm going around Kotetsu’s shoulders and squeezing ever so lightly. Kotetsu looked up at him mutely, gratitude warring with embarrassment. He didn’t even know what he’d been expecting to find on Barnaby’s face, but the softness that met his gaze wasn’t it, and it sent a curious shiver right down his spine.

“You both owe me dinner,” Nathan said, sounding smug. Antonio cursed. 

“What?” said Kotetsu, looking up quickly as though caught in the middle of something incriminating (which was not that far from the truth).

“I still don’t believe it,” said Karina. Her face was red now too, like it got when she was mad or embarrassed. “Why wouldn’t either of you have said something before now?”

“We are sorry for not being honest with you,” said Barnaby. Kotetsu couldn’t help but be very aware of the fact that Barnaby’s arm was still wrapped firmly around his shoulders, the press of his warm body against Kotetsu’s side like a muted furnace. More distracting still was the fact that this was not a remotely unpleasant sensation. “We really did not have a choice.”

Nathan clasped their hands together, their expression altogether gleeful. “It’s alright, we totally understand,” they said. “I’m so happy for you both!”

“Why do they owe you dinner?” Kotetsu asked, belated.

“Because no one but Nathan believed the announcement that you two were engaged,” said Antonio. He was watching Kotetsu, and maybe it was because of the continuing distraction of Barnaby’s warm body against his, but Kotetsu was finding his expression hard to read. 

“I knew all along that you two were in love,” Nathan added; Kotetsu felt his jaw drop open, and then seconds later the press of Barnaby’s fingers on his chin as he pushed Kotetsu’s mouth shut again. “Ah, Kotetsu, how did you manage to capture Handsome’s heart? Every man and woman in this city is jealous of you!”

“I’m the one they should be jealous of,” said Barnaby mildly. His hand floated downward instead of returning to his own lap, settling against Kotetsu’s clavicle, so that Kotetsu was almost entirely encircled in his arms. If Kotetsu hadn’t known better, he would have said Barnaby was being possessive.

Karina scowled. “I still think you’re lying, even if I don’t know why,” she said flatly. Kotetsu could feel his face getting hot again. “The old man is the worst liar in the world, I would have known if he’d been lying about being with Barnaby!”

“You never asked him,” Antonio pointed out. Karina glared daggers at him, and Antonio put his hands up in defeat.

“What do you want me to say?” Kotetsu asked, nettled. His embarrassment was ebbing away now, eaten up with irritation at the fact that he was being put in a position where he had to lie to people he cared about. And it wasn’t like that was Karina’s fault, but he could only take so much vitriol thrown his way before his hackles started to come up. 

“I want you to tell me the truth,” Karina shot back. “Or prove that this isn’t a lie. Prove that you and Barnaby are really in love!” Kotetsu heard the way Antonio and Nathan sucked in a breath almost simultaneously, felt his own face and throat hot and prickly under the skin with sudden nerves.

“Fine,” said Barnaby, before Kotetsu could get his own answer out. This time, though, at least Kotetsu could guess what was coming. He turned his head as Barnaby’s hand came up to cup his jaw, even tilted his face a little, and when Barnaby leaned in for the third time that day Kotetsu met him halfway. 

It might have lasted only a few moments, and it might have been in front of a more-than-slightly stunned audience, but the difference in _kissing back_ and merely being kissed was enormous. For one thing, Kotetsu could no longer deny the electricity that thrummed under his skin when Barnaby’s lips pressed against his.

 _Shit,_ he thought, and then shoved it away to be dealt with later.

When they broke away, Kotetsu had to drop his eyes for a moment to collect himself, his former embarrassment resurfacing for a moment at doing something so private in front of his friends. But when Kotetsu looked up, Barnaby was staring levelly at the others.

Nathan’s eyes were wide, a hand over their mouth that only poorly covered their delight. Antonio looked a little embarrassed and more than a little impressed (which was almost as confusing as Kotetsu was feeling), and Karina looked as though she was about to burst into tears, which—

“Okay, I believe you,” said Antonio hastily. He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, pointedly not looking at Karina. “But why didn’t you guys tell us? Are you really engaged?”

“Ah,” said Barnaby, which was as close to being taken off-guard as he ever got. Kotetsu thought fast. _Work on instinct, Kaburagi!_

“We—we’re being blackmailed,” he blurted. _Shit_ , he thought again. _Instinct bad._

“What?!” “You’re what!” “But why?!”

Barnaby let out a breath. He cast the briefest of sideways glances at Kotetsu, the corner of his mouth twitching, and then said, sounding reluctant, “We aren’t actually engaged. We’re together, but Lloyds and our sponsor didn’t want us to reveal anything to the public or anyone else because they thought it would ruin our image.” 

“Your image,” Kotetsu noted, automatically. 

“ _Our_ image,” said Barnaby firmly. “But—that NEXT we fought a few days ago? When you had to burn us out of that webbing, Nathan?”

“That guy is blackmailing you?” Antonio demanded. “For what?”

“He’s a really creepy stalker,” said Kotetsu, warming to this direction. “He knows a scary amount about us, and he’s really invested in—in us being ‘honest with our fans.’” He raised his hands to add the air-quotes, grimacing as he repeated that snippet of conversation. He didn’t have to fake the distaste he felt when talking about Enigma. 

“He sent a message warning that he would set off more of those sonic bombs of his in places where there are children if we didn’t admit to the real nature of our relationship,” Barnaby said. The colorful range of emotions on their friends’ faces was fading fast, replaced with a grim anger that Kotetsu was intimately familiar with. It was an expression all the Heroes wore at one time or another, usually when faced with the news of something vile perpetrated against innocents.

“And you didn’t want anyone to realize that you were doing this because you were being blackmailed, so you made it about a fake engagement,” said Nathan, realization dawning. Kotetsu nodded. It was pretty close to the truth, after all. 

“Well, that makes a little more sense, at least,” said Karina. She was still rather flushed, but she looked less like she was about to start crying or shouting, more in control of herself, for which Kotetsu was grateful. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

“Not my idea,” Kotetsu said, and the sourness in his voice was real. He caught the sympathetic glance Barnaby shot him. 

“Kotetsu hadn’t even been allowed to tell his family about our relationship till this broke, either,” Barnaby said. “Kaede was displeased.” Kotetsu put his face in his hands, and Antonio laughed. Moments later he heard the sounds of the other Heroes sinking into the chairs arranged around Barnaby’s living room, the three of them apparently finally accepting the situation at face value. “Lloyds and Agnes were very vehement that we keep it to ourselves, and we really had no idea how over-the-top they would take this when they decided the only thing we could do was go along with the situation.”

“This must be hard for you, old man,” Nathan said. They sounded like they were trying not to laugh and failing. “You’ve never been good at talking to the press.”

“You can say that again,” said Karina. Kotetsu looked up in time to see the way she primly crossed her legs at the ankle, once more the self-composed young woman she normally was. “Always two beats off with his foot in his mouth.”

“Let’s not get mean,” said Kotetsu. Karina smirked primly.

“Anyway,” said Barnaby. “You see now where we are at. We truly did not mean to lie to any of you, but surely you understand what a difficult situation we’ve been in.”

Antonio made a noise, shifting slightly in his seat. Kotetsu thought that he seemed a bit ill at ease, and thought that he’d have to go out and have a drink with him later, after this was all over—make sure the air was cleared. But the next words out of his friend’s mouth put that worry to rest. “Don’t worry,” Antonio said. “We all know you’d never lie to us without good reason. That’s why we came over to check on you, make sure you were all right.”

“We have your back,” Nathan added. Karina huffed and looked away with arms crossed, which in the language of teenagers was concrete agreement. 

Kotetsu smiled. “Thanks, you guys,” he said gratefully. “You have no idea how much that means to us.”

* * * * *

By the time the other Heroes finally left, it was already past nine pm. Kotetsu cast a weary look at the mountain of paperwork sitting on Barnaby’s desk that they had meant to get started on that night. The amount of work piling in since their announcement was astronomical. “Why don’t we have a secretary to help us with this crap?” he asked out loud.

“We do,” said Barnaby mildly, as though Kotetsu had asked a real question and not one he clearly already knew the answer to. “She has an even larger stack at work that she deals with by herself.” 

Kotetsu made a face. “Can we please skip it for the rest of tonight?” he asked—okay, _whined_ , really. “My head is starting to hurt again, and it’s getting late.”

Barnaby opened his mouth as if to chide Kotetsu, then glanced at the clock. “I suppose it is,” he said. “Alright. I think we’ve already finished all the most urgent stuff, at least.” He glanced over at Kotetsu again. “You go first, I’ll clean up from dinner.” Kotetsu was much too grateful at the unexpected easy victory to think of arguing. 

When Kotetsu emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, teeth brushed and face washed, he saw Barnaby sitting on the couch, looking as close to outright fidgeting as he’d ever seen his partner come before. “Eh, you alright there, Bunny?” Barnaby looked up at him, and Kotetsu came over to sit down next to him on the couch. “Drink too much tea to get to sleep?”

“It’s not that.” Barnaby was looking at him steadily now, a sort of tension to his face that made Kotetsu a little nervous. “You remember what Lloyds said today, right? About how we had to do method acting?”

Kotetsu stared. “Uh, yeah,” he said after a moment, not entirely sure how he was meant to respond. “I hate to break it to you, but unlike what most romance movies would have you think, most relationships are not that unlike what you and I already do.” The words were out of his mouth before he’d taken the time to think over the possible implications of them. Belatedly, he remembered how Agnes had commented that all of their ‘acting’ aside from the kiss had been very good, that no one would ever guess they weren’t actually a couple—and how Nathan had apparently privately thought the same thing for some time now.

But if Barnaby could tell what Kotetsu was thinking, he didn’t say so. He took a deep breath, and said, firmly, “I think you should sleep in bed with me tonight.”

“What,” said Kotetsu. Instantly his whole face went hot, as though he’d just eaten a spicy pepper.

“I mean it,” said Barnaby. He leaned towards Kotetsu a little, earnest. Kotetsu was forcefully reminded of what seemed like the countless number of times today he’d been so painfully aware of Barnaby’s warmth, his smile, his proximity (his _kiss_ ). How at once masculine and beautiful he was, carved from pink-white stone like some kind of Greek god, with his too-long eyelashes and his vivid green eyes and his unnervingly gorgeous smile under a fall of flaxen hair. 

It took a few moments for Kotetsu to register that Barnaby was saying something while Kotetsu’s brain was busy shorting out like rats had been chewing on the wires between his ears. “Uh,” he said intelligently. 

Whatever it was Barnaby had said, that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. His face fell. “I would never do anything to make you uncomfortable, Kotetsu,” he said, words very soft. The wounded note in his voice might as well have been a knife right to the chest.

 _Goddammit_ , he thought. “I know that,” he said quickly, sitting up straighter. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Come on, it’s not like I would mind sleeping in bed with you! But I feel like I’m putting you out, you know? It’s too much to ask of you.” _Please ignore the fact that I almost said out loud how not awful the idea is of sleeping in bed with you…_

Barnaby’s brow furrowed. “Putting me out?”

Kotetsu gestured, vague and flustered. “Bad enough you have to endure pretending to be in a relationship with me, right?” he said. “And now you can’t even get any peace and quiet in your own bed at night? That seems harsh.”

“The only thing harsh here is how hard you’re being on yourself,” said Barnaby, which was not quite the response Kotetsu was hoping for, but at least Barnaby didn’t sound quite so much like a kicked puppy anymore. “It’s really fine, Kotetsu. My bed is huge, it won’t be any trouble. Besides, it’s what we were told to do, isn’t it?”

“I—I guess so,” Kotetsu said haltingly. Barnaby gave him a little smile, as crooked as it was sweet. “But if I wake you up in the middle of the night snoring, you have only yourself to blame.”

Barnaby laughed. “I’ll take my chances,” he said.

This was how Kotetsu ended up following Barnaby into his bedroom, staring at the bed with a mixture of trepidation and maybe just a hint of actual anticipation. There was a gnawing awareness at the back of his mind that he wasn’t nearly as against this turn of events as a man not the least bit interested in his partner ought to be—he’d kissed Barnaby not once but three times today, he’d stayed at his partner’s house three nights running and would continue to do so for the foreseeable future, and right now he was about to climb into bed with the other man for a night of supposed sleep.

True, they were no longer pretending to be as purely heterosexual between them as they once were. The real problem, Kotetsu knew, was that there was a little voice in the back of his head warning him that he didn’t mind sleeping in the same bed as Barnaby at all. In fact, if he stopped protesting long enough, he might even be able to admit he would enjoy it.

It didn’t help that Barnaby apparently had no qualms about wearing just his briefs to sleep in, since the semi-transparent tank top he wore was not much in the way of actual “clothing.” Also, while Barnaby and Kotetsu both wore tight-fitting underwear to work as a matter of course (and had seen each other nearly naked any number of times in the changing room, to say nothing of their tight-fitting bodysuits), it was somehow different to see his partner dressed in such a way, especially as a prelude to climbing into bed together. For his own part, Kotetsu wore boxer-briefs to work, but had changed into boxers to sleep in, plus an old t-shirt that he’d had since right around the time he and Tomoe had started dating. It was soft and worn out now, the pattern faded to something indistinguishable, and thus the idea of throwing it out was utterly intolerable. 

The uncomfortable clamor got shunted aside as Kotetsu watched Barnaby climb into bed and noticed the unusual way he went about doing it: carefully and gingerly, as though cautious of disturbing something. The slight wobble of the surface of the bed beneath Barnaby’s hands caught Kotetsu’s attention, and suddenly it clicked. “Is that a waterbed?” Kotetsu asked, abruptly fascinated.

Barnaby was in the midst of pushing back the covers and settling in. At Kotetsu’s question he paused, glancing over with a faint smile. “Yes,” he said, sounding almost smug. “It’s very comfortable.”

Kotetsu was about to make a smart remark about what kind of man has a king-sized water bed and how much it must have cost, but his own smart remark was cut off by the enormous yawn that felt like it was about to unhinge his jaw. The corners of his eyes watered. Kotetsu mashed his hand across his mouth, embarrassed; it took a few moments to register Barnaby’s soft laughter. “Come to bed, old man,” he said.

“You’re not cute,” grumbled Kotetsu, more out of habit than actual disgruntlement.

“You keep saying that,” Barnaby said, his voice light. “Maybe I should start practicing?”

Kotetsu was caught off guard. Perhaps because of this, or simply because he was unfamiliar with the unique physics of water beds, his response was interrupted by sudden forward motion as he tried to climb onto the mattress only for it to give way under his hands, the weight of his upper body displacing the water. He yelped, tumbling forward with all the grace of a drunk badger. He plowed directly into Barnaby before the other man had time to react, the bed wobbling around them with a noise that would have been funny if Kotetsu wasn’t so busy taking one of Barnaby’s collarbones to the nose. 

“Ow,” he said, muffled into Barnaby’s deltoid. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine…” Kotetsu tried to push himself upright at the same time as Barnaby, with the end result of them both toppling over again, Barnaby on top of him this time, their legs tangled together. Kotetsu flashed on the last time they’d been in this same position, when Barnaby had thrown himself in the way of the sonic boom and wound up pinning Kotetsu to the ground trapped in a net of sticky webbing for nearly thirty minutes. 

“Just hold still for a second,” Barnaby said, a touch of exasperation in his voice. Kotetsu froze, trying very hard not to look at anything in particular. He ended up staring at a point right on Barnaby’s neck—the precious little hollow of his throat, the spot below which his gold necklace usually lay. It took another few minutes of almost comical crawling around, but eventually they managed to get themselves arranged. 

The waterbed ended up being quite comfortable, or so Kotetsu thought. And despite all his anxiety about trying to sleep in the same bed as his entirely-too-attractive partner, it turned out Barnaby’s initial estimation was right—there was more than enough room in bed for both of them to sleep, even sprawled out like a pair of spiders. Kotetsu was just starting to drift off when he felt the bed shift. Moments later, the covers to his right were thrown wide. Barnaby huffed and turned over.

“Eh?” Kotetsu lifted his head to peer at Barnaby, already stupid from drowsiness.

“You’re like a furnace,” Barnaby said in exasperation. “Your body temperature is ridiculous.”

“Oh,” said Kotetsu, and then: “Uh, sorry?”

Barnaby let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, and if Kotetsu were more awake he might have thought his partner sounded a little chagrined. “Just go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Kotetsu agreed. He laid his head back down, shutting his eyes again. Within minutes, he was sound asleep.

* * * * *

Kotetsu usually slept like a rock. He dreamed, but unless his sleep was interrupted by Hero work, he rarely remembered them. He was in the middle of a particularly baffling dream in which Blue Rose was chastising him for not watering the flowers properly outside the Apollon Media building, when a noise that didn’t quite belong interrupted her rant.

“What?” Kotetsu asked, or tried to. The noise came again. It sounded like a hurt child, or maybe an animal. “Hold on, Blue Rose, there’s—there’s something—”

He woke a moment later, staring stupidly up at the unfamiliar ceiling. For a few seconds he couldn’t even remember where he was, or why the mattress beneath him seemed colder than usual. Then the noise came again, and Kotetsu’s addled brain finally registered that it was coming from whoever was in bed next to him.

Kotetsu lifted his head, squinting to his right in the darkness. He could just make out the sight of Barnaby lying curled up on his side in the fetal position, legs drawn up and back bowed, shoulders hunched. Barnaby was making some incoherent noises in his sleep; they were probably meant to be words, but they were impossible to make out. 

But they weren’t happy noises, Kotetsu thought. They sounded scared, or upset. 

Kotetsu frowned. He didn’t want to wake Barnaby, necessarily; he wasn’t sure how welcome that would be, and he didn’t want to force Barnaby to share a story he didn’t want to tell. But maybe if he just poked him a _little_ he might drift out of whatever unpleasant dream he was enduring… Kotetsu reached over, placing a hand cautiously on his partner’s bare shoulder—and then started at how clammy the skin under his hand was. Jesus, no wonder Barnaby was having nightmares; he was freezing. 

“You idiot,” he muttered. Kotetsu sat up a little more, braced on one elbow as he reached for the covers Barnaby had thrown off however many hours before. Barnaby shifted by his arm, letting out something awfully close to a whimper. Kotetsu softened, looking down at Barnaby’s face; in the dim, barely-there light of the bedroom, he looked incredibly young, barely more than a child. 

Kotetsu let out a breath. “You…” he murmured, not even sure what he wanted to say. Something warm and indescribable was awake in his chest, some impulse he couldn’t name. He slowly lowered himself back to the bed, tugging the covers up to cover Barnaby again; as he did so, he shifted, and with a little bit of coaxing Barnaby rolled towards him, until he was curled against Kotetsu’s chest, his face pillowed against Kotetsu’s shoulder. Kotetsu had to suppress a full-body shiver from the press of all that chilled skin against his own. _Poor Bunny,_ he thought, and in the dark and in his own head he could let himself feel as tender and protective as he wanted towards his brilliant, handsome partner. 

He wouldn’t stay like this, Kotetsu told himself. Just lay here for a few minutes, enough to warm Barnaby up. Barnaby had called him a furnace, and it was no lie; Tomoe had always told him he ran hot when they slept in bed together—something she’d loved, especially on cold winter nights. Maybe it would be enough to warm his partner, to soothe his bad dreams, and then they could go back to sleep.

Just a few minutes. Not long at all.

* * * * *

He was having a good dream.

In it, he was warm, tangled up in bed in the arms of the person he’d spent the night with. _Bunny_ , he thought, with an accompanying flush of happiness. That made perfect sense; of course it would be Bunny.

Barnaby was still there, curled around him like a living blanket, his face nuzzled against Kotetsu’s neck. Kotetsu was sort of sad that the dream seemed to have started the morning _after_ their night together, but this was still nice. He turned his face a little, nuzzling Barnaby’s messy hair. It smelled of sweat and Barnaby’s own personal odor, which Kotetsu was familiar with from working in such close quarters with him so many times. Kotetsu was hoping he’d be able to catch the scent of their sex, but it wasn’t there.

He made a disappointed sound in his throat. He started to reach over, perhaps to pull Barnaby more tightly against him (still hoping for a trace of that smell), but Barnaby stirred against his side, lifting his head. Kotetsu caught a glimpse of of his unfocused green eyes, peering up at him through that fall of blond hair.

The sight stirred something in his chest. Kotetsu made a noise, curling towards Barnaby and raising his hand to push Barnaby’s hair out of his face. There was a moment where Barnaby blinked sleepily at him, and then—because it was a dream, and they had slept together already, and it felt so easy and natural and good, like drinking water when you were thirsty—Kotetsu leaned in and kissed him, gently, tenderly.

Barnaby groaned. His hand on Kotetsu’s stomach flexed, fingers pressing against Kotetsu’s abdomen; he exhaled into Kotetsu’s mouth, and then moved against him, kissing him back. Kotetsu rolled onto his side so that he and Barnaby were face to face, instinctively seeking more of his warmth, more points of contact. “Kotetsu,” Barnaby murmured, his throat full of gravel. Kotetsu shuddered and felt the hand that was on his stomach slide backwards, thumb brushing over his iliac crest, then pushing into his underwear to cup Kotetsu’s ass.

“Bunny…” Kotetsu groaned.

Barnaby smiled against his mouth, nuzzling him and licking at Kotetsu’s lips. Kotetsu sighed, wrapping one of his arms around Barnaby’s muscled shoulders, reveling in how hot he was to the touch, how sweet and real he felt. He hooked a foot around Barnaby’s calf, pushing his hips against the other man’s, grinding languidly against him through their underwear, and Barnaby moaned against his mouth.

They kissed, slow and without urgency, still covered in blankets and the grey light of predawn. Barnaby rocked against him, twisting one of his legs with Kotetsu’s to better the angle, and Kotetsu could feel his hardness through their underwear, pushing against the crease of Kotetsu’s hip and thigh. He whined in his throat, the hand wound through Barnaby’s tangled hair tightening against Barnaby’s skull, trying to push closer with his whole body, wanting, _needing_ more.

Barnaby responded by pushing Kotetsu onto his back, crawling on top of him. He kissed over Kotetsu’s mouth, sucking on his lower lip and grinding down against Kotetsu’s own morning erection. Kotetsu’s mouth fell open in a groan, lashing both arms around Barnaby’s shoulders and pulling him down on top of Kotetsu more tightly. The warmth and press of him on top of him felt so good, felt like something he’d been wanting forever and not even realized how much until right now. Kotetsu splayed his thighs open, and Barnaby slid between them, letting Kotetsu wrap his legs around Barnaby’s hips and pull him in closer again, their cocks grinding against each other through their underwear in a delicious tease.

“Kotetsu, Kotetsu…” Barnaby murmured his name over and over, the susurrus almost hypnotic. Kotetsu turned his head a little, rubbing their faces against each other, his hips rolling slowly up against Barnaby’s. The urgency to do more was growing stronger, but so was the increasingly-clear idea that this was more than just a dream.

Kotetsu pushed it away. He didn’t want to think, yet. 

Barnaby had gotten his hand down between their bodies, was tugging at the band of Kotetsu’s boxers, trying to pull them down. Kotetsu lifted his hips, bringing his legs closer together again, and Barnaby succeeded in shoving Kotetsu’s boxers down his body, trapping them loosely around Kotetsu’s thighs, freeing his erection. He’d already somehow managed to get himself free, and when he pushed back down against Kotetsu the feel of Barnaby’s dick against Kotetsu’s abdomen made him groan.

The jolt of arousal that went up his spine at the press was the thing that finally pushed his brain into semi-awareness, but it was much, much too late to correct his mistake—if it was even a mistake, an assessment Kotetsu was loathe to sign off on at this exact moment. It still felt too good, too sweet; he was not yet awake enough to panic or want to stop, even if he could no longer pretend he was dreaming.

“Kotetsu,” Barnaby murmured, almost lost in their kisses. Kotetsu moaned by way of response, and Barnaby pressed down against him, hedging Kotetsu in between his sturdy arms, his hair falling into Kotetsu’s face as they ground against each other. Kotetsu shut his eyes, pulling Barnaby closer and rocking his hips up against Barnaby’s, his brain stuttering as he drew closer to orgasm.

The angle wasn’t quite enough—his boxers were trapping his thighs too close together, and Kotetsu needed just a little bit more. Kotetsu whined, trying to flex his hips, do _something_. Barnaby must have read his mind, because he braced himself on one elbow and shoved his other hand between them, grasping them both in his hand and thrusting with him, syncing their rhythm.

Kotetsu gasped. “Help me,” Barnaby said in his ear, a throaty exhalation that was barely even words. Kotetsu bit his lip and shoved his own hand clumsily between them, not half as graceful as his lover; it took him a moment of fumbling to find the right place to put his hand, but then his fingers were tangling with Barnaby’s, wrapped tight around their cocks and providing the perfect grip to thrust against. Again Kotetsu moaned, and Barnaby kissed him hard. Their hips moved faster, grinding against their hands and each other; Kotetsu’s pulse sped, his heart in his throat and his breath ragged, and still he couldn’t get enough of Barnaby’s kisses, kissing him over and over again like a drowning man breaking the surface for air.

His orgasm crept up on him, breaking over him in a wave. Kotetsu arched against Barnaby with a wet, cut-off little cry, spurting into their twined hands. Barnaby surged against him, his breath ragged against Kotetsu’s mouth. Kotetsu got a glimpse of his green eyes, the pupils dilated and fever-bright, and then he got lost in the feel of Barnaby’s body tensing up against his own. Kotetsu shut his eyes, drowning in it. He wanted it to drag him under, wanted it to sweep them back into sleep so that he didn’t have to think.

Barnaby sagged on top of him, his face buried in Kotetsu’s hair. Kotetsu kept his eyes shut, his arms wrapped around Barnaby’s shoulders; _now_ he could smell their sex, the tang of sweat in the air and clinging to their bodies. He remembered, too late, how he’d woken up in the middle of the night to find Barnaby shivering and in the grips of some bad dream, and how he’d gathered the other man against him, protecting him with his body and warmth, and then stupidly fallen back asleep that way.

Kotetsu wondered if he was surprised. It had felt so natural to wake up and find Barnaby tucked against him; had felt perfectly natural to want to kiss and be kissed by him. He wondered what it meant, that in the space between sleep and awakening where he acted without thought, his first instinct had been to reach for Barnaby.

Maybe Barnaby could hear the tell-tale grind of Kotetsu’s brain going into overdrive, because he pushed himself up again, dropping a kiss at Kotetsu’s temple to get his attention. “I’ll start coffee if you want to shower first,” he murmured, which was not at all what Kotetsu was expecting, somehow.

 _Why did you just kiss me without even asking why?_ Kotetsu thought. What came out instead (for some damn reason) was “Sounds good.” And before he could correct himself, Barnaby flashed that crooked barely-there smile at him, nuking what few thoughts Kotetsu had been able to collect and then rolling off him to walk naked to the closet.

Kotetsu watched mutely for a few moments, staring at the long line of Barnaby’s back, the way it tapered to his hips, the curve of his ass. Then he grabbed the towel draped on the back of the chair and fled to the bathroom.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lines between facade and reality start to blur, leaving Kotetsu wondering where, exactly, he stands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooo, I got through exams! (For now.) Please enjoy this chapter, and thanks for reading!

If given the opportunity, Kotetsu would have stood under the spray of the shower till all the hot water in Japan ran out, and then probably just turned his face up into the stream till he drowned himself. But he had to keep it together, or at least _try_. The same few thoughts circled round and round inside his skull, repeating over and over like a song stuck on repeat.

First, not only had he messed around with Barnaby, but he had liked it. Kotetsu wished he could convince himself that it was just a result of the suggestive circumstances he’d been enduring the past few days, but he couldn’t get past fact number two: that he, Kotetsu, had been the one to gather Barnaby into his arms in the middle of the night, and then kissed him awake in the morning. _He_ had initiated.

But was that really so crazy? He’d just spent the past 72 hours telling everyone that he and Barnaby were a couple—even his daughter, even their closest friends. Maybe if you kept telling the same lie over and over, you started to believe it yourself—but could you still call it a lie if you started to really feel that way?

That was the hell of it. Kotetsu shut his eyes, huffing out his breath in a long moan. He couldn’t get the sense-memory of Barnaby’s body out of his mind, how warm and firm his arms felt, how natural it felt to kiss him. It was one thing to get all wound up because it had been awhile since he’d gotten laid, but Kotetsu couldn’t pretend away how much he still wanted to run back out of the shower and kiss Barnaby till his toes curled.

This was bad. Kotetsu knew he was just a dumb, lonely widower who was latching on to the first person he’d really been intimate with since Tomoe died, but that did absolutely nothing to soothe the new ache growing under his skin, an itch only one person could scratch. _Oh no, oh **no** , I like him, I really like him…!_

Barnaby, though. He hadn’t asked for this—was already bearing this whole situation with far more grace than Kotetsu would have, if their roles were reversed. Kotetsu had to find some way to keep his growing infatuation from his partner, so that he didn’t become uncomfortable—or worse, end their partnership. The idea sent a stab of anxiety through Kotetsu so intense that he had to put a hand out against the shower wall, shutting his eyes as the water sluiced over his back and shoulders.

Should he just pretend nothing had happened? Pass it off like just another part of method-acting? No, no, that was—there was no way Barnaby would buy that. Kotetsu bit his lip, worrying unconsciously at it as he mechanically reached for the soap and started washing his pits and groin. He’d have to explain somehow, but he also couldn’t suggest to Barnaby that this was going to become something dangerous if they didn’t nip it in the bud now.

He’d just say that it was the stress and suggestive nature of their situation. Maybe that would work. After all, it was perfectly natural to wake up kind of horny, wasn’t it? Kotetsu had always been that way; it used to drive Tomoe crazy, how he’d make them late for work by waking her up with his head between her thighs (but of course she would always grab him by the hair and push him in deeper so it wasn’t like she had much room to blame him). Kotetsu let out a long breath, ducking under the spray again to rinse off the soap suds.

It might not work very well, but it was the best he had.

* * * * *

He almost didn’t get the chance. Kotetsu finished rinsing off, shaved, dressed himself, and then hurried down to the kitchen to find Barnaby on the phone with Lloyds. Kotetsu swallowed the words he’d been rehearsing in his head, heading to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup, and then sat down at the breakfast bar next to Barnaby, quietly listening to the briefing Lloyds was giving them.

“…And next week, we’ve arranged a brief meeting for you with the president and vice president of the Tiger & Barnaby Fanclub,” Lloyds was saying.

Kotetsu made a face. Apparently Lloyds caught it, because he sighed. “I know, I know,” he said, and the hologram might have been kind of grainy, but his exasperation was still easy to make out. “But they’ve been pestering us non-stop ever since we made the announcement, and they do a lot of our work _for_ us when it comes to your publicity. It’s good policy to keep them happy.”

“Their vice president is scary,” said Kotetsu, unable to keep from sounding peeved. Barnaby made a noise into his coffee, but when Kotetsu glanced over his expression was as placid and smooth as the surface of a lake.

“Yes, well, you still have to make nice with them,” said Lloyds. “Anyway, don’t be late today.”

“We will be professional,” Barnaby said firmly. 

“Good,” said Lloyds, who looked about as stressed as Kotetsu had been feeling; he felt a stab of sympathy for his often-peevish boss. “Have you been practicing? The cost to your images and career if the public gets wind of the truth is incalculable, so we can’t afford a slip-up.”

“We’ve been practicing,” said Barnaby. Kotetsu kept his mouth shut and took another drink of his coffee. “Now if you will excuse me, sir, we need to go get ready for our day.”

“Of course.” Lloyds sighed again, as if the weight of the entire world was on his shoulders today. “Call if you have any questions. Agnes and I will be in touch. Remember, no Hero work for the next few days, you’re in too much demand right now.”

“And here I thought our job was saving people,” muttered Kotetsu. Barnaby elbowed him.

“Your job is to do whatever we tell you to,” said Lloyds, a touch sharply. “Follow Barnaby’s lead, Tiger.” Kotetsu managed not to roll his eyes, somehow, but it was a near thing.

Lloyds signed off, the image on the screen pinching to a line and then vanishing. Kotetsu had been effectively distracted for long enough that he almost missed his chance. Barnaby pushed a plate in front of him that contained an egg sandwich and a few pieces of bacon, and Kotetsu was just getting ready to tuck into his breakfast when his brain caught up. “Ah, Barnaby!”

Barnaby paused in the door, looking back at him. “Is it urgent, Kotetsu?”

Kotetsu flushed. “Um, about this morning…”

Barnaby’s expression changed, almost imperceptibly. “Ah,” he said.

“Look, I just—I didn’t mean to—it’s just that, you know, sleeping in bed together, and acting like we have been, and, and—” Kotetsu fumbled for words, clutching his mug of coffee so tight it was a wonder that it didn’t shatter in his hands.

Barnaby’s eyebrows crawled further and further up his forehead, threatening to disappear into his hair altogether. Kotetsu broke off, derailed so badly he was wondering if he should just give up and dive under the table; before he could try again, Barnaby had walked back across the room to him, taking the mug of coffee from Kotetsu’s hands and setting it on the counter. Only then did Kotetsu notice that he had spilled quite a bit of coffee on the countertop from his shaking hands. “Sorry, uh, I just meant, I wanted to say that—”

“Kotetsu,” Barnaby said firmly, cutting into a new round of stammering before Kotetsu could really get going. “It’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it, okay?”

“But…” Kotetsu looked up at him, face hot enough to cook a few more eggs.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Barnaby, with unexpected gentleness. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to Kotetsu’s, silencing Kotetsu’s next protests with a kiss before he could even get started. Barnaby lingered for a moment, effectively frying Kotetsu’s brain. When he finally pulled back, he kept close enough that Kotetsu could smell the sweat of their recent exertions on his neck and hair, and gave Kotetsu a faint smile. “We’re engaged now, so it’s fine. Right?”

Kotetsu swallowed. “Uh… right.” Barnaby could have said, _we’re Martians now, right?_ and Kotetsu would probably have agreed, the bastard.

“Good, I’m glad we’re in agreement.” Barnaby straightened up before Kotetsu could get to wondering how and why that was inaccurate, all business again. “I’m going to go shower. Lloyds said we are doing some more domestic photoshoots today, so you should wear your hair back again, and maybe something more relaxed than your usual tie and vest.”

“What?” Kotetsu blinked, disoriented by the sudden change in topic. “Why should I wear my hair back?”

“It suits you,” said Barnaby. He paused in the door, flashing another faint, somewhat mysterious smile at Kotetsu. “I’d tell you to wear the glasses, too, but they would look strange on top of your face mask. And besides, I don’t think I feel like sharing you when you look like that.”

“Oh,” said Kotetsu stupidly. “That makes sense.” He couldn’t help but feel like this entire scenario was somehow unfair; wasn’t he supposed to be the one who had their shit together in the morning, with Barnaby the confused and cantankerous bear? What had happened?

“I’ll be ready in twenty minutes,” said Barnaby, vanishing again before Kotetsu could formulate another question. “Be ready when I come back.”

“Sure,” said Kotetsu, and got up to pour himself some more coffee. He was going to need at least another three cups to get through this day, he suspected.

* * * * *

As it turned out, Kotetsu should really have just brought the whole pot of coffee with him. That day (and the many that came after) was not quite a trainwreck, but it was a near thing.

Their first order of business was the aforementioned photo shoot. Barnaby’s comment that having Kotetsu’s hair back suited him was borne out by the fact that the costume attendants seemed to wholly approve of the choice. They made Kotetsu try on a total of six outfits before finally settling on a version almost identical to the clothes he’d first worn in the door, except thousands of dollars more expensive. Kotetsu never knew that jeans and a button-down shirt under a sweater could be so expensive. 

(He wondered more than once why he still bothered to wear his mask, since his identity was no longer a secret, but when he was doing Hero work, he wore the mask. No reason to change now, he supposed.)

The only good thing about the whole mess was that Kotetsu and Barnaby were being photographed together, as opposed to on separate sets on the opposite side of the city. Having company did much to make the whole situation less obnoxious. Kotetsu was equally glad of Barnaby’s company when they were whisked off to another speaking engagement, this time at some politician’s house who was clearly looking for some kind of celebrity endorsement. 

The irony of the situation did not escape Kotetsu—that Barnaby was both the main reason for his newest source of anxiety, and simultaneously his greatest comfort from all the other stress currently being thrown at him. He wished with all his heart that he could just throw aside the dark, circling thoughts and let himself just derive comfort from his partner, instead of worrying that he was committing some secret wrong against Barnaby just by having these feelings he didn’t know what to do with. But he couldn’t even find a way to put that into words, much less _tell_ Barnaby about it, so he shoved it deep down inside him in a dark corner and tried to shut a door on it, at least for now.

The days blurred together, so many engagements and interviews and photoshoots crammed in between actual Hero work that even Kotetsu’s nearly-endless stamina was getting worn down. Barnaby never let any hint of actual stress show in public, of course, but in the car rides from one photo shoot or talk show to another, he went increasingly silent and slumped. The only thing Kotetsu disliked more than this burning-the-candle-at-both-ends feeling was seeing the toll it was taking on his normally dauntless partner, and on most of these exhausted car rides one or the other of them wound up tucked against the other’s side, taking comfort in their shared warmth. 

Kotetsu was getting to the point where he no longer knew what was pretend and what was genuine, didn’t know what to think when Barnaby allowed himself to doze off with his face tucked against Kotetsu’s shoulder. Maybe he didn’t really want to know. The only good thing about this crush of publicity was that it made it natural and easy for him and Barnaby to grip each other even more tightly, holding on for dear life against the onslaught of demands the outside world brought against them. 

Because as huge as the reaction that Agnes and Lloyds had predicted, the truth turned out to be so much worse. Kotetsu honestly wasn’t sure if he would still have been willing to volunteer for this mission if he’d actually known what a shitshow it was going to turn out to be, but it was much too late for that.

Tiger & Barnaby were on the front of every magazine, the headline of every newspaper, the words on the lips of every talk show host or reporter. There was a huge faction of their fans (or former fans, he supposed) who wanted to decry what they’d done—calling them all manner of names, liars and filth and deceitful trash—but there was an equally (or even larger) faction who were _obsessed_. That was the only thing you could call it. And they were ravenous for every single detail they could get.

Kotetsu had no idea it was possible to care that much about a person you didn’t even _know_. He had idols and personal heroes, of course; he’d grown up idolizing Mr. Legend. But the kinds of things that were asked of them and then feverishly repeated and analyzed and debated—people actually cared what kind of cereal he ate? What kind of razor Barnaby preferred to shave with? Whether their toilet paper roll faced the wall or hung down from the outside? 

(“You’d think the secret of life and eternal happiness came in knowing your favorite song,” he said to Barnaby one night during that long, miserable blur of time. He was stretched across Barnaby’s lap, half upright, one leg hung over the arm of the couch, the other dangling casually off the cushions. Barnaby’s arms were draped around Kotetsu’s shoulders, one hand playing idly with his hair. 

“It’s been like this for me for awhile, but never this bad before,” Barnaby told him absently. “Keith texted me today to tell me a girl started crying when she asked him whether your favorite noodles were soba or udon and he told her he didn’t know.” Kotetsu had boggled at that, but really all the rest of it was equally weird.)

One thing that made him especially uncomfortable was how they were being lauded as some kind of progressive heroes for equal rights. They got invited to come speak at the next meeting of Rainbow Pride, a Sternbild LGBTQ group, which made Kotetsu so deeply distressed that he actually dragged Barnaby into a single-stall bathroom and locked the door. “This is going too far,” he hissed.

“I don’t see the problem,” Barnaby said, adjusting his glasses. In stark contrast to Kotetsu’s worsening anxiety, Barnaby seemed composed, even cheerful. “I told you that I only date men, and you’ve dated men before too, right?”

“Well, that’s true, but—”

“Don’t you think it does teenagers good to see someone like them in such a visible position?” 

Kotetsu glowered. “But we’re not actually engaged,” he said doggedly. He couldn’t quite bring himself to say _we’re not even really dating_ , even though that was technically the truer of the two statements. 

Barnaby’s response was not what he had anticipated, somehow. “So what if we’re not actually engaged?” Barnaby stepped in close, sliding his hand along Kotetsu’s waist, tugging him close until their abdomens were pressed together, his hand resting proprietary at the small of Kotetsu’s back. “You of all people know how important it is to have people to look up to, right? A Hero to model? That’s why you always try to keep your Hero image a certain way, isn’t it?”

“I just…” Kotetsu could feel himself caving, persuaded as much by the very much real warmth of Barnaby’s arms around him as by the argument being presented to him.

“It’s okay,” Barnaby told him gently, reassuringly. “Even if the image isn’t totally real, the good it does just by existing _is_. If doing this with you can inspire people to be happier and live better lives, then I have no complaints.”

To this Kotetsu could find nothing at all to say. So instead he just sighed, finally wrapping his own arms around Barnaby’s shoulders and kissing him by way of agreement. 

The truly distressing thing happened towards the end of the second week. The president and vice-president of the Tiger & Barnaby fanclub had been pestering Lloyds for a fan-meeting with their favorite Heroes, and Lloyds and Agnes could put them off no longer. Kotetsu had met with them before, of course, and had always found them at once earnest and somehow very off-putting, but nothing prepared him for the sheer madness of this meeting.

They walked into the conference room to find not just Tsuji and Akibara but a good thirty other fangirls, as well, every single one of them wearing matching Tiger & Barnaby t-shirts. As soon as the door opened, they started _screaming_ , so loud and piercing that Kotetsu came very close to simply turning on his heel and bolting out of the room. Barnaby must have sensed how close he was to bailing, because he reached out and grabbed Kotetsu’s hand, tugging him closer as they walked in together. Lloyds stood at one end of the room, along with a posse of security goons, watching the proceedings with a thinly-veiled expression of apprehension.

The questions started immediately, before the screaming had even actually stopped. _Barnaby, what’s Tiger’s favorite romantic spot? Did you decide to come out together, or did one of you have the idea first? Have you set a date for the wedding? Are you going to invite us to the wedding? Will you both be wearing white? Will you sign my fan book? Will you take a picture with me? Will you record a voicemail for me?_

They answered all the questions as patiently as possible, though some of them were so awkward that Kotetsu wondered if it was possible to die of secondhand embarrassment. As awful as it was to be _asked_ those questions, he had to wonder if the girls (and handful of boys) asking them were even aware of how ….intrusive they sounded. Did they realize how inappropriate it was to ask someone that kind of question? 

Also, how could Barnaby answer questions like _Do you pick out each other’s clothes in the morning_ with such grace and patience? Kotetsu had never wanted to slap so many people so badly at one time. 

Then they started to get worse. Kotetsu could feel alarm (or maybe panic) rising in the back of his throat, all of the hair on his body standing on end. _I wrote a poem about the two of you, will you read it? Which of you is the big spoon when you sleep in bed at night? Do you use your Hero powers during sex? Barnaby, what’s Tiger’s favorite position? Tiger, is it true you have a daughter?_

The questions about sex were bad enough, but as soon as Tsuji asked this last question, Kotetsu felt something in him lock up. The impulse to lash out was the next thing in the front of his mind, and he had to freeze, had to bite it back down.

“I think that’s quite enough questions for today,” said Lloyds, cutting in before Kotetsu could do something inappropriate like scream or pitch a fangirl out a window. “Tiger and Barnaby have had a very long day, and I know you all want the best for them.” The chorus of protests made Kotetsu’s skin crawl, and he was halfway out of his seat before he even realized he was moving. Barnaby looked up at him in alarm, but to Kotetsu’s everlasting gratitude he made no effort to stop him. In fact, he stepped carefully between Kotetsu and their fanclub, buying Kotetsu a few moments to compose himself so that he didn’t _actually_ run full-tilt out the door like he was fleeing from a homicidal NEXT.

He caught up to Kotetsu in the hallway. Kotetsu was already halfway down its length, heading for what was presumably the exit, though his brain was so addled he might well have been heading towards the broom closet for all he knew. “Tiger! Are you okay?”

Kotetsu forced himself to stop, to let Barnaby catch up. “I’m… I’m fine,” he managed, then let his breath out in a rush. Barnaby caught up to him in three steps, his hands going to Kotetsu’s shoulders. Kotetsu stayed where he was, his hands at his sides; a fine trembling had taken ahold of him. He wondered what it was he was feeling. Rage? Panic? Fear? Some combination of the above?

“You’re not fine,” Barnaby said in a low voice. “Let’s take the rest of the night off.”

“Okay,” Kotetsu said, shakier than he remotely wanted to admit. He swallowed, thick, but when Barnaby started to put an arm around his shoulders he took an abrupt step back. “Barnaby actually I think—I think I need maybe a night… off. Alone.”

He’d thought Barnaby might protest, or at least be hurt. But all Barnaby said was “Alright,” that same neutral, accepting tone of voice. “I’ll tell Lloyds. Can you get home safe, or do you need an escort?”

The very last thing Kotetsu wanted was to be around more people, but he still forced himself to stop and think about that. “I think I can get home okay,” he said at last, but found he was able to mean it. “I’ll leave out the private exit, and take one of the cabs Lloyds set up for us.”

Barnaby nodded again. “Okay,” he said. “Call me if you need anything.” He kept his voice neutral, but now that Kotetsu’s hysteria had receded somewhat he could detect the worry in Barnaby’s eyes, almost hidden behind his glasses. 

“I will,” said Kotetsu, and found that he wasn’t just saying it, which was a relief. “I just need a few hours to decompress.”

“That’s fine, whatever you need.”

“Thank you,” Kotetsu said, soft and awkward. 

He managed to escape the building without any further incidents; halfway down the stairway to the back exit, he took off his mask, narrowly resisting the urge to crumple it into a ball and throw it in the next trash-bin he saw. He normally loved wearing his mask—it was a fundamental part of his Hero identity, after all—but just lately it had been feeling like the flimsiest sort of protection against the demands of an increasingly-rabid citizen population. 

He wondered if the chaos that now swirled around him when he went out in public would be better or worse without his mask. He was probably better off not finding out, really. Still, he couldn’t help but think wistfully of the days before his identity had been common knowledge, when he could go about his business without a second glance from anyone on the street. He had always liked his privacy, but he’d never thought he’d miss it _this_ much.

The cab ride home was thankfully silent; the driver said literally nothing to Kotetsu in response to the address given, merely nodding and pulling back into traffic. Kotetsu spent the ride puttering around on his phone, playing a stupid gem game to distract himself, since he couldn’t bring himself to touch or even look at the mountain of emails waiting for his further attention. 

He just wanted to be left the fuck alone.

One message popped up about halfway home. Kotetsu went to delete it, then saw that it was from Kaede, and the irritation in his gut ratcheted down a few notches. _When are you going to come home and visit?_

Kotetsu bit the inside of his cheek, worrying it absently as he considered the question. He felt bad that he’d had to put off the request for so long already, but it wasn’t as if he’d had much choice. He and Barnaby had hardly had a spare moment to do literally anything other than practice their dating routine and then do it in public.

Quickly, he pulled up the list of his upcoming obligations, the ones that Lloyds and Agnes had already put into their schedule and he couldn’t avoid barring some kind of massive organ failure or NEXT attack. There was a big red-carpet event at the end of the week, some sponsorship gala that he and Barnaby were expected to attend. There were things _after_ that, of course—another couple interviews, what looked like a photo shoot—but Kotetsu was feeling just salty enough to be confident that if he told Agnes they were going to take time off to go visit his family as “the happy couple,” then she would just have to acquiesce.

It wasn’t as if she could fire him _now_ , could she? 

The thought made him smile, grimly, and he pulled Kaede’s message up again, quickly typing out a response. _Is this Sunday soon enough? Barnaby and I have to attend the Crystal Charity Ball, but after that I’ll drag him home to see you all._

Kaede’s response came back gratifyingly swift, and delighted: _That’s awesome! I’ll tell Grandma and Uncle Muramasa right away! You promise you’ll come on Sunday?_

 _I promise,_ Kotetsu sent back. _My honor as a Hero._

He leaned back against the seat, feeling a little better. Maybe not everything about this new situation he was in was totally terrible. At least he had a little leverage.

The street where he lived was all but empty, just a lone woman walking her dog. Kotetsu paid the driver for his services, tipping him extra for being so obligingly silent, and then got out of the car, heading up towards the door of his apartment. He slipped inside, not quite knowing why he was being so quiet except that he _could_.

He shut the door behind him with a ginger little _click_ as it locked behind him. Kotetsu let out a sigh, shutting his eyes and slumping against the door. 

His shoulders sagged, all the tension he’d been carrying around draining out of him like water. The inside of his apartment smelled a little stale—which made sense, as he hadn’t been here for over a week and he’d shut the windows before he left—but it was so blessedly quiet that Kotetsu could have cried from relief. 

He dropped his bag on the floor in the foyer, going from room to room to crack the windows, slowly letting the peace and safety settle over him. His apartment was still kind of a mess, but there was nobody here to hound him or demand answers of him or want a piece of him. He was safe.

Kotetsu spent the next few hours doing next to nothing. He made himself dinner, and ate it on the couch while watching a mindless game show (he had to switch halfway through because the host started talking about the exciting developments of Tiger & Barnaby, but he found a new one that was equally boring and thankfully without any mention of current events). He filled the tub with hot, fragrant water, and soaked in it until it went cool, dozing off at one point. He made himself a pot of tea and drank the whole thing over the course of three hours, trying to let his mind wander.

Wander it did, but not to the places he’d hoped it would go. It seemed no matter what Kotetsu did, his thoughts kept returning to the morning in Barnaby’s bed a few days ago.

They hadn’t talked about it at all, not since Kotetsu’s first fumbled attempt the morning of. They had fooled around a little more, Kotetsu waking in the middle of the night to Barnaby’s soft kisses on his neck and unable to not respond. It hadn’t been anything more than some furtive groping and making out in the dark, but it had been just as confusing to Kotetsu as that first morning tryst had been. 

Kotetsu growled and sat up, pushing himself off the couch and abandoning the trashy manga he’d been half-assedly reading. Barnaby wasn’t even _here_ , but the thought of him seemed to fill the empty spaces, every one of Kotetsu’s nerves attenuated to the sense-memory of his partner’s body. Now that Kotetsu was alone, the vastness of his longing was making itself known, growing and growing until he thought he could drown in it, be smothered in it. 

He paced across the dining room floor, his stocking feet whispering furtively in the silent apartment. The worst part was that he was no longer really sure when these feelings had actually begun. Sure, he’d become aware of them when he’d finally gotten Barnaby’s hands and mouth on him in the past few days, but that had felt less like a new and unslakeable thirst than just being shown something and realizing he’d wanted it all along.

Kotetsu made it to the door and turned around, making as if to walk back across the dining room to the couch, but at the last minute he changed his mind. He shut his eyes instead, leaning back against the door, the cool carven wood pressing against his spine through his shirt. This wasn’t even really _his_ apartment; that apartment was now filled by a very sweet young couple newly engaged and living together to save money for their wedding. (He’d checked.) He’d lost that apartment when he’d moved back home during his and Barnaby’s year apart, when they had both thought retirement was what they wanted.

He remembered now how he’d felt like he’d lost more than just the apartment—how adrift he’d been during that year separated from his partner, how weirdly at sea he had been. Kotetsu had enjoyed being at home, with his family, but he’d lost the art of feeling at home in Oriental Town; there was simply no place for him. He tried working for his brother at the bar, but he was an uninspired worker at best and downright incompetent on his worse days. Kaede had finally told him that she was sick of him sulking around the house like a useless lump, and that if he was just going to sulk he should go back to Hero work. 

He’d missed Barnaby then, too. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time—he’d thought it was just another function of Hero work, missing his partner and his fellow Heroes. And he had been reluctant (okay, _scared_ ) to go back to Hero work with his power so diminished, but looking back now, he was able to recall with startling clarity exactly how much of his anxiety had been about whether he’d see Barnaby again, whether he could do this without the man he’d come to rely on—and how beyond overjoyed he’d been when Barnaby had turned up out of the blue, catching him just when Kotetsu needed him most. 

Christ, what was wrong with him? Kotetsu pushed the bases of his palms against his eyes, drawing a ragged breath into his lungs. With nothing else to focus his gaze on, his brain unhelpfully supplied the mental image of his current affliction—Barnaby glancing over him with that particular half-smile that said he was trying to keep a straight face and couldn’t quite manage it, Barnaby who was staring right at him, out of everyone in the world he could possibly ask for. The sensation was so strong that Kotetsu immediately suffered a shudder that passed over his body like a ghostly hand. His whole body hurt; his mouth felt dry, his chest ached as though his ribs had been tightened several notches too tight, his eyes prickled like someone were cutting onions in the room. The thought of Barnaby made him _hurt_ from how badly he—he wanted, he _wanted_. 

Dimly, he remembered feeling something like this on exactly one other occasion. Tomoe had gone out of town to visit a school friend of hers, shortly after they’d started dating but before they had gotten really serious. Kotetsu had spent the entirety of her absence feeling like he was dying of some kind of contagious disease, stricken with thoughts of the woman he missed like a prisoner missed sunlight. And here he was, sick with thoughts of Barnaby after being gone from his side for only a few fucking hours. How in the hell had he survived a whole _year_ without the other man? 

Dammit. He was supposed to be at home, getting some down time, cooling his head. Instead he was losing his shit like some lovesick teenager. Kotetsu groaned, sinking down against the wood of his doorway until his butt hit the floor, slumping into a C-curve of despair as he put his face in his hands. 

What should he do? He had to do something, clearly. But he had no good options, except to just...keep on pretending in their current charade, at least until Enigma was caught. No matter his own circumstances, Kotetsu could not endanger innocent lives. 

But once Enigma was caught—then what? Could he really continue on like this? Kotetsu grimaced at the idea of continuing the sham indefinitely; he would either have to end it, or… no. No, he couldn’t ask Barnaby to be with him, no matter how much he wanted it. Could he? That was asking too much. Maybe he should just bow out of Hero work altogether, then.

The idea was a grim one; it sat heavy on his shoulders like a jacket sodden from rain. Eventually, Kotetsu retired to bed, narrowly resisting the urge to get good and drunk. He avoided drinking alone when he was melancholy, due to both experience and simple common sense. But his previously-cozy bed was now small and empty. Kotetsu tossed and turned in the narrow frame, staring first at the ceiling, then out the window at the outline of the city that he could glimpse through the half-closed blinds. 

He couldn’t get comfortable. The parade of positions he attempted to fall asleep in went by like some kind of comedy show: on his belly, on his side, on his back, his feet at the head of the bed or hanging off the end—none of it did any good. When one am rolled around and Kotetsu found himself no nearer to falling asleep than he’d been when he’d gone to bed three hours ago, he finally gave up, leaning over to turn on his bedside lamp and dig around until he located his cell phone. 

He saw with some surprise that he had a missed call. It was from Barnaby. Kotetsu sat up, his pulse picking up a little bit as he pulled open the voicemail. _Hi Kotetsu,_ said Barnaby’s pleasant voice. _I was just calling to check on you. Let me know how you’re doing._ Kotetsu glanced at the incoming call data; 9:48 pm, right when he’d gone to bed. His heart sank as he realized it was probably too late to call back.

He should at least send a text message, he decided; if Barnaby woke up and saw Kotetsu still hadn’t responded, he might be worried, especially in light of all the creepy attention from Enigma. Kotetsu thought for a moment, then typed: _I’m fine! Just relaxing at home, so please don’t worry about me!_

Kotetsu sent the message, then leaned back in bed, staring uselessly at his phone. It was stupid of him to see if Barnaby would reply back. It was already late, and—

 _Ping._ His phone lit up not fifteen seconds later with a return message, sending Kotetsu’s heart vaulting up into his throat cavity. _You’re up very late. Are you sure everything is alright?_

Kotetsu bit his lip, a stupid smile warming his mouth as he stared at the question. He started to reply, then hesitated. He couldn’t exactly tell the truth… _Some of my neighbors are having a party and it’s a little loud,_ he sent back, which had certainly been true on other occasions but wasn’t really the case at the moment.

 _It’s no good if you can’t get any sleep,_ came the reply, perhaps fifteen seconds later (not that Kotetsu was counting). _Can you ask them to keep it down?_

Crap. This was what he got for lying. _I don’t want to be a bother,_ was what he sent back.

_They are the ones who are being a bother, but I understand. In that case, you are welcome to come back here. I have been up working on case files anyway._

Well, that answered the question of why Barnaby was still up. Kotetsu felt the smile on his face widen, warming him all the way down to his stomach despite the chill breeze coming in through the window. 

Still, he hesitated. Was it really a good idea to go back over there, when he was having so much trouble? But then again, they would see each other again in the morning, anyway—and he had the rather thrilling (or perhaps frightening) idea that he’d be able to sleep better if he returned to Barnaby’s. _Alright. But I’m only coming over to make sure you don’t stay up all night working._

 _Someone has to make up for all the work you leave unfinished._ came the response, and Kotetsu could just hear the smug tone of voice. _See you soon, old man._

“You little brat,” Kotetsu muttered to himself, but the words tasted sweet, as though infected by the smile he was still wearing. 

He threw a few things into his bag and was out the door in less than ten minutes, reaching Barnaby’s twenty minutes after that. The lights were on. Barnaby opened the door a few scant seconds after Kotetsu sent the text that he’d arrived. He was clad in just pajama pants and a muscle shirt, his hair tied loosely back from his face. Kotetsu’s heart ached in his chest at the sight of him. 

“Come inside before you turn senile and get lost,” said Barnaby, smiling as he held the door open.

“What? Did someone say something? I can’t hear anything with these old ears of mine,” Kotetsu said loudly. He came inside, unable to not slow slightly as he stepped in front of Barnaby. Barnaby let the door shut behind him and turned, still within the circle of Kotetsu’s personal space, his eyes focused very intently on Kotetsu. 

“Did you need me to repeat it?” Barnaby asked. His voice was very soft, his mouth very close.

“Maybe…” Kotetsu tilted his face, ever so slightly, too dizzy with Barnaby’s proximity to resist. Barnaby took the invitation, stepping in to close the distance between them and taking Kotetsu’s face in one hand as he pressed their lips together, kissing him so sweetly Kotetsu thought he might pass out. Kotetsu leaned instinctively in, and felt Barnaby’s other hand settle at the small of his back. 

All thoughts of pretending he wasn’t feeling as smitten as he was went right out the window, quietly shutting the door behind them to better allow Kotetsu’s brain to melt and leak out his ears in peace. He lingered, kissing Barnaby back for what felt like ages but was probably only thirty or forty seconds before finally breaking off, letting out a low breath and hiding his face against Barnaby’s neck, suddenly shy.

Barnaby’s hand came up from the small of Kotetsu’s back, rubbing circles between his shoulderblades. “Are you feeling any better?” Barnaby asked. His voice was low and warm, the pressure of his hand very gentle. 

Kotetsu took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He shut his eyes, leaning into Barnaby, his arms wrapped loosely around the other man’s shoulders. “A little,” he said after a moment. “I don’t know how they found out about Kaede—”

“You don’t know that they actually know anything,” Barnaby said, sounding entirely too reasonable considering it was almost 1:30 in the morning. 

“Well, I guess,” said Kotetsu dubiously. “But it was damn close, if they don’t know.”

“It’ll be okay,” Barnaby said. It should have sounded like bullshit, but when Barnaby said it, Kotetsu found he could actually believe it. “Agnes will find a way to deal with it. You know how scary she gets when someone messes with her show.” Kotetsu smiled at that, relaxing just a little bit. Barnaby apparently felt it, because he dropped another kiss on Kotetsu’s temple and then pulled back slightly. “Right now, though, we should go to bed.”

“Uh huh.” Kotetsu left his small bag in the front hall, letting Barnaby lead him back towards the bedroom. He halfway wondered if something more might happen, here in the dark in the middle of the night (and how would he have felt if that had turned out to be the case?) but Barnaby seemed to have nothing more on his mind than getting Kotetsu into bed for a few hours of sleep before the next day came.

By the time they crawled into bed, it was nearly two in the morning. Tomorrow was going to hurt. Kotetsu’s head was still spinning with endlessly circling thoughts about what this was, what it meant, what he should do, what the next day would bring. But when Barnaby scooted over next to him and snaked an arm around his waist, slotting himself securely against Kotetsu’s back, the anxiety that had been steadily dogging him all night seemed to lessen and then drop off altogether. Kotetsu shut his eyes, feeling the exhaustion settle over him like a blanket.

Within minutes, he was out like a light.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kotetsu and Barnaby attend the Crystal Charity Ball. It goes better than Kotetsu ever expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is EXTREMELY NSFW (second out of 3 chapters with smut). Sorry the chapter is a bit later than I would have liked, Thanksgiving happened and there was much rejoicing. Have a great weekend and enjoy your holiday if you are celebrating it!

“How does this thing go on, again?”

Kotetsu scowled at himself in the mirror. They were supposed to leave for the Crystal Charity Ball in ten minutes, and he was still only half-dressed. He felt half-everything, really, he thought irritably to himself in a moment of weird objective clarity: half-awake, his stomach halfway to digesting itself from nerves, only half a Hero with his minimized power. 

Movement in the mirror caught Kotetsu’s eye; over his shoulder back in the bedroom, he could see Barnaby moving around, selecting a tie from the several options laid out on the bed. Just the sight of the line of Barnaby’s shoulders in that tailored shirt made Kotetsu’s stomach lurch in a way that had nothing to do with what he’d had for dinner.

His feelings for Barnaby were the one thing that weren’t halfway at all. On that, Kotetsu was well and truly of one mind.

“Here, I’m coming. I’ll show you…” Barnaby appeared behind him, tie-less still buttoning his cuff links into place. He studied Kotetsu in the mirror, frowning ever so slightly, and then, standing almost directly behind Kotetsu and reaching around him from either side with both arms, he started to adjust the vest Kotetsu was wearing, tucking and straightening the fabric out. “You have it on correctly, it’s just a little crooked, that’s all.” 

“This tie is impossible,” Kotetsu complained, making a face in the mirror. Barnaby had him in a formal three-piece suit, complete with sea-green mottled vest and matching bowtie. “Why can’t I wear one of my suits?”

“This is a formal event,” Barnaby told him sternly. “Since you don’t want to wear a tuxedo, you need to wear a more formal three-piece suit. I still think the cummerbund would—”

“No,” said Kotetsu flatly. “It feels like some kind of weird belt, and it’s too tight.”

“Then this suit is the one you’re going to wear,” said Barnaby.

“It’s too tight! The vest fits wrong!”

“It’s just a different fit than your usual.” Barnaby came around to Kotetsu’s front now, adjusting the bow-tie, his fingers moving with practiced ease. “This fits perfectly, so don’t argue with me.” 

“I’m Bunny and I know everything so don’t argue with me!” Kotetsu parroted Barnaby’s voice back in the sing-song mimicry he used the very first time he and Barnaby had gone out on a mission together. Barnaby paused what he was doing, hands arrested in the air by Kotetsu’s collar-bone, his mouth falling open and eyes ever so slightly too wide.

Kotetsu tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t quite manage it; the corners of his mouth twitched, and he bit his lip, to no avail. Barnaby caught the shift, his eyebrows going up for just a moment before something wicked came into his face. “Watch it, old man,” he said, smirking, and then he dug his fingers into Kotetsu’s ribcage, tickling him mercilessly through the thin protection of his dress shirt. 

Kotetsu howled. He doubled over, trying to get away from the maddening fingers digging into his sides, yelling and laughing in protest. Barnaby folded around him like a vise, arms locked at Kotetsu’s side as he pinned Kotetsu in place against the edge of the counter-top. Kotetsu caught a glimpse of the huge grin Barnaby was sporting, stupid and happy and bright, and warmth hit Kotetsu right in the chest, knocking out what might have remained of his ability to fight. “Stop, stop, stop!”

“Do you give up?” Barnaby demanded. His hands stilled, hovering menacingly by Kotetsu’s hip-bones.

“Yes! Ahaha, please, just—I give up!” Kotetsu leaned heavily against the counter, breathing hard, trying to stifle the laughter that still wanted to spill out. He lifted his head, peering at Barnaby in the mirror. Their eyes met in the reflection, and something in Barnaby’s expression softened. His hands settled at Kotetsu’s hips, not tickling, not gripping, just resting.

Kotetsu straightened up, keeping his eyes on Barnaby’s in the mirror. “Glad that you’re capable of listening to reason,” Barnaby said after a moment, trying for ‘smug’ and not really managing it. 

“Well, I have to give you something to do, or you might get sad,” said Kotetsu for _literally no reason_. He just opened his mouth and the first stupid thing to come to mind fell out. 

Instead of looking at him like the idiot he was, Barnaby just smiled. “I am lucky that I have you looking out for me, then,” he said softly. “Now hold still and let me fix your outfit, since I messed it up. If we don’t leave soon, we’ll be late.”

“And whose fault will that be?” Kotetsu obediently let himself be turned in place, so that his butt was resting against the edge of the countertop, putting them face-to-face while simultaneously giving Barnaby access to his disheveled clothes. 

“Mine,” said Barnaby, absently. He was focused on tucking and smoothing out Kotetsu’s shirt underneath his vest, tucking it back into his pants. “Here, the pants should fit a little higher than you’re used to, like this—” 

Kotetsu held very still, just letting Barnaby adjust him. All of a sudden, he was hit with a wave of mixed deja vu and nostalgia—he could have sworn that if he blinked, he would look up and find Tomoe adjusting his clothes for him just like this, fussing over what other people would think when they looked at him. Kotetsu sucked in a breath, the air catching in his throat. 

Barnaby’s hands stilled. “Kotetsu?” Kotetsu lifted his eyes, finding himself shy. Barnaby was looking at him with one eyebrow cocked. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” Kotetsu said, surprisingly even himself. “Just…”

“What is it?” Barnaby’s hand crept along Kotetsu’s arm until it found his hand, lacing their fingers together. 

“It’s just been a long time since anyone paid this much attention to this old man,” Kotetsu said, with an effort. “He’s not used to it.” Oh god, why was he using the third person? Why couldn’t he talk normally around Barnaby anymore? Why did something stupid and inane fall out every time he opened his mouth?

Barnaby’s expression went soft, a very faint smile on his lips. “You’re just going to have to manage somehow,” he said. “I can’t do this alone, you just said so yourself.” 

He went back to adjusting Kotetsu’s vest, tugging at it to make it lie smoothly atop his shirt. “But don’t worry too much. I’ll be nearby, so you can lean on me if you feel like you’re going to pass out.” Kotetsu snorted, but before he could fashion a response, Barnaby continued, “Anyway, I really shouldn’t leave you alone for too long. Dressed up looking like this, someone might find you too irresistible, and what would I do if someone stole my fiance right out from under my nose?”

Kotetsu’s mouth fell open. Given the shining opportunity to make more trouble, he spoke without even thinking, shooting from the hip (or rather, what lay between them). “You’re probably right. We shouldn’t risk it. We should just stay home.”

“Oh? And what would we do then?” Barnaby’s voice had gone low and warm, his gaze very intent. His hands drifted downward, tugging once more at the bottom of Kotetsu’s vest before going possessively to each of Kotetsu’s hips.

Kotetsu felt his face burn, suddenly and keenly aware of every single spot at which their bodies were touching. Barnaby was only inches from him, the heat of his regard so intense that Kotetsu thought he might go up in flames from an errant spark. “Well,” he said, hearing the word with that unique, painful awareness that came in moments like these, “I’m sure we could come up with something.”

Barnaby regarded him for several moments. He leaned closer, his face just inches from Kotetsu’s. “I’m sure we could,” he murmured. Kotetsu could feel his breath against his own lips. “I admit, it’s very tempting… even though I know it would result in Agnes beating down the door an hour or so from now.”

Kotetsu winced. He felt, rather than saw, the way that Barnaby smiled; all he could see was Barnaby’s bright green eyes, so distracting and vital he might drown. “That wouldn’t be very fun,” he agreed, because he had approximately two brain cells left to rub together and he could think of absolutely nothing worth saying that didn’t wasn’t _kiss me_ or _help me take all these clothes off_ or _this outfit would look even better on your floor_. “I guess we’ll have to, uh. Wait.”

“I guess we will,” Barnaby agreed, and kissed him. 

It was nothing like that first time, in the baseball park. Kotetsu grabbed for Barnaby’s shirt, finding the folds of his lapels; he had just enough presence of mind left to not crush the fabric in a death-grip for fear of wrinkling it. All the rest of his attention was devoted to the warm lips on his, and reveling in Barnaby’s hands on his hips, Barnaby’s body against his body. In the press of Barnaby’s hips against his, Kotetsu could feel the suggestion of what they would do if they really did decide to ditch the gala. Just the shadow of it in his mind—comprehended like a silhouette seen through a window—was enough to send a shudder through him, his fingers tightening in Barnaby’s lapel as he let out a low groan.

Barnaby pulled back, sucking in a breath, seeming to steady himself. “That’s probably enough,” he said, sounding almost as unsteady as Kotetsu felt. 

That was fucking gratifying. Kotetsu grinned a little bit, leaning forward to rest his temple against Barnaby’s; it felt good to not be the only one unhinged by this situation. “I already said what I thought we should do, but you know I hate big events anyway.”

“I do,” said Barnaby, and kissed him once more, brief and intense, so much so that Kotetsu all but bent backwards over the sink, clutching to Barnaby’s lapels again for dear life. “I’m going to make you go anyway. But—” Here he grinned, stepping backwards and once more straightening Kotetsu’s crooked tie. “I promise I’ll make it up to you afterwards.”

“Oh,” said Kotetsu intelligently. Barnaby’s grin widened into a smirk that was hot enough to send another throb of lust right to Kotetsu’s dick, and then he turned away, heading back out into the bedroom, presumably to collect their suit jackets. Kotetsu swore under his breath, taking a few moments to collect himself before following, his brain still feeling utterly scrambled.

He would be lucky if he made it through the evening with his remaining virtue and brain cells intact. Check that—he didn’t care about his virtue. Barnaby could have it, along with anything else he wanted.

* * * * *

The gala was magnificent.

It was the most lavish affair Kotetsu had been to in years, and that was including all the pomp and circumstance that had attended him and Barnaby at the previous heights of their popularity (following the debacles with Ouroboros and Maverick, respectively). Everyone was in black suit and tie and expensive, shimmering dresses; Kotetsu thought he saw the Prime Minister, the Secretary of State, the co-hosts of Sternbild’s most popular talk show, four fashion models that even he recognized, and a popular former Olympic athlete. 

The gala was being held inside the Oberon Conference Hall, which was fourteen stories tall and offered such impressive accoutrements as a pool, a tennis court, an indoor atrium with a garden that rivaled the Metropolitan Botanical Gardens across town, and an honest-to-God ballroom with four glittering chandeliers and floor-to-ceiling windows. The conference hall had its own hotel attached, and while the hotel functioned daily regardless of whether or not the conference hall and its facilities were actually in use, more often than not some event was being hosted here—a political rally, a convention of some sort, a charity ball like this one. The Oberon was huge, state-of-the-art, and oozed elegance from every one of its polished white stone pillars. Elaborate statuary lived in every main room, including the dining halls and foyer, peeking out of the trees and flower gardens that were housed in the atrium. 

This particular event, the Crystal Charity Ball, was an annual gala meant to raise funds for various civic projects via charitable donations. It was being attended by everyone of import in Sternbild City, and was being covered by eight of the ten major media outlets for the region. Kotetsu really didn’t understand much about it beyond that bare-bones description. His ignorance was as much deliberate avoidance as confusion; he _loathed_ this type of event, all pomp and circumstance and peacocking with no substance to it at all. Also, he was terrible at small talk. 

At least this time he didn’t have to go alone. 

Agnes had arranged a limo for them to arrive in, and Barnaby and Kotetsu literally stepped out of the car onto a red carpet. There was a mob of people in the roped-off areas meant for the crowds of spectators, and it was all Kotetsu could do to not scramble back into the limo at the sudden outbreak of screaming and flash-bulbs going off in their faces as they got out. 

As if on cue, Barnaby climbed out of the limo next to him, and extended his arm to Kotetsu. Kotetsu hesitated. _Fuck it,_ he thought, and slipped his arm into Barnaby’s, stepping closer to him and plastering his best “public” smile on as they started to head up the long walk up to the Oberon’s main hall. Kotetsu did his best to keep his eyes on the walk in front of them and not glance at the frantically gesticulating people lining the walk-way. He’d had plenty of practice dealing with the public, obviously, but not on this level. Not with this much… hysteria involved. 

Luckily, once inside, there was a lot to keep him busy: the endless photographers who wanted to take photos of them; the members of the public who had been admitted to the gala; the speeches given by the Mayor and several senators; and also a special performance by Starlight Over the Rhine, the year’s most popular rock band. (Somehow the President and VP of the Tiger & Barnaby fan-club had gotten entrance, because of course they had, but luckily they were confined to the public area and couldn’t follow Kotetsu and Barnaby all the way across the fucking floor like they no doubt otherwise would have. Kotetsu indulged himself a little by making eye contact and waving to them exactly once, and then blithely ignoring them the whole rest of the night.)

Once he got past the initial hump of craziness on the red carpet, Kotetsu calmed down a little. Having Barnaby so close to hand was the obvious and most important distraction. But it wasn’t just that his partner was the most attractive, intelligent, charismatic person in the room (not that Kotetsu was biased or anything). It was the fact that, thanks to that brain-melting kiss in the bathroom, it was now utterly impossible to ignore his attraction to Barnaby.

Worse (and even more distracting), Kotetsu was now starting to let himself wonder if Barnaby was also genuinely attracted to _him_. He didn’t know how such a thing could truly come to pass, but he could no longer deny the chemistry crackling between them like a live wire. Barnaby certainly wasn’t doing anything to disabuse him of the notion. He’d pulled Kotetsu against him in the back of the limo, stealing a few more kisses on the car ride over from his apartment, such that Kotetsu did not so much step out of the limo as stumble dazedly out the open door onto the sidewalk. 

They managed to behave themselves when surrounded by people, but every stolen glance or lingering touch against his arm or side fanned the flame now burning in Kotetsu’s chest a little hotter. Attuned as he was to every little thing Barnaby said or did, Kotetsu could hardly miss how… _possessive_ Barnaby was acting, either. He did not miss the way that Barnaby’s hand came to rest, proprietary, at small of Kotetsu’s back every time some beautiful model or actress came by to compliment one of them on their suits, or how Barnaby would reach out to take his hand every time Kotetsu had finished posing obligingly for some photo. 

And yet he was still shocked when, after enduring a good twenty minutes of idiotic small talk with some twee little man who was inexplicably wearing a replica Napoleon Bonaparte suit and Greek tragedy theatre mask, Barnaby calmly took Kotetsu by the hand and led him down a hallway that led off from the main ballroom. “What are we—” Kotetsu began, as Barnaby pulled him into an apparently-empty room (“room” was a bit much; it was a glorified broom closet). His question was cut off as Barnaby shut the door and pushed Kotetsu up against it, flattening himself full-bodied against Kotetsu and kissing him, hard. 

They spent a few minutes frantically making out, Kotetsu giving in to the urge to shove his hands under Barnaby’s suit-coat, blindly seeking a few inches of bare skin to lay hands on but unable to get too wrecked when they still had to go back out in public. It was Kotetsu who broke away this time, gasping softly and letting his head thump back against the hard wood. “Bunny,” he breathed, and felt a shudder go through Barnaby under his hands. 

“Ninety more minutes, then we can go,” Barnaby gritted out. His voice had gone hoarse, like he had a throat full of gravel. Just hearing it made Kotetsu’s dick go from half-mast to full 21-gun-salute in his pants. “I can’t stand the way everyone keeps looking at you, it’s driving me crazy!”

“You’re an idiot,” Kotetsu exclaimed, laughing a little and hugging him. “It’s you they’re looking at.”

“You have no idea how good you look in that suit,” Barnaby said, grumpy, his hands still shoved under Kotetsu’s vest as though he could get at his bare skin through the silk fabric of his shirt. “It’s distracting.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to wear it!”

“I _know_ ,” said Barnaby with a grimace. “And now everyone is staring. I’m a moron.”

“You are,” Kotetsu murmured, and kissed him again, his heart in his throat, his skin warm and tingling. 

There was one fly in the ointment, just one thing that really marred their night. It happened on the walk back to the main ballroom, Kotetsu’s hand interlaced with Barnaby’s. Their wrist comms went off, a page from Lloyds that made Kotetsu’s hair stand on end. 

_”Heroes, we got some troubling intel from security at your event. One of the guards spotted someone sneaking along the balcony on one of the uppermost rooftops. If you aren’t currently in the main hall, can you investigate without making a scene?”_

“On it,” Barnaby said, and closed the channel. He exchanged a grim look with Kotetsu, who just nodded. All thoughts of romance and things related to it vanished, replaced by a grim wariness. It would be all too logical for Enigma to appear here, at one of the biggest media events for Heroes TV of the year.

They raced up to the roof, still clad in their formal wear, running light-footed along the nearly-empty hallways without the usual comforting weight of their suits to move against. Kotetsu spared a moment to marvel at how synchronously he and Barnaby moved, how they didn’t even have to talk about what to do as they scouted the perimeter of the roof and cleared the corners and hidden spots one by one. The rest of his attention was taken up by the fact that whoever had been spotted up here was now long-gone. All that was worth noting was that one of the doors on the roof was unlocked. 

Kotetsu paged Lloyds to report in, Barnaby standing by watchfully. “Nothing to report up here,” Kotetsu told his boss. “We found an unlocked door, but no sign of forced entry and no one at all on the roof.”

Lloyds looked chagrined. “We’ll keep an eye on it,” he said. “In the meantime, come back downstairs, Agnes can only make excuses for you for so long before it gets suspicious.”

“On our way,” said Kotetsu, and cut the line. He sighed and looked at Barnaby. “Are you sure we can’t just use our powers to jump off the roof and go home?”

“Don’t tempt me,” Barnaby said in a low voice, and Kotetsu laughed. Barnaby leaned in and cut him off with another lingering kiss, and then Kotetsu had to shove him away before they got sidetracked _again_ and were even later than they already were. 

The rest of the evening passed in a glittering blur. It was a little hard to slip back into the swing of things after the adrenaline rush of hunting a possible adversary, but the promise of what was waiting for them at the end of the night quickly took forefront in Kotetsu’s mind again. People kept pressing glasses of champagne into his and Barnaby’s hands—pushy cocktail servers and excited fans who wanted to hand him something, mainly—and because he was an idiot he just kept _drinking_ them. Kotetsu rarely drank sparkling wine, usually preferring beer or occasionally whiskey, and it went right to his head this time, no doubt because he was already half-drunk on something much more intoxicating than mere alcohol. 

At one point they were cornered by the other Heroes, who were of course also present. Kotetsu, who had made a startlingly swift descent from ‘vigilant’ to ‘tipsy,’ got the vague impression that they were being… studied, or at least watched with great interest, by both Nathan and Antonio. He was finding it increasingly hard to care. 

“I still can’t believe neither of you told us sooner,” grumbled Karina.

“ _I_ still can’t believe that none of you figured it out sooner,” Nathan said archly. They were resplendent in an outfit that was ostentatious even by their usual standards, a pink-and-gold form-fitting body suit that boasted an actual plume of iridescent golden feathers that appeared to sprout out of Nathan’s backside. It even had a mermaid-tail train.

“Honestly, neither can I,” said Antonio unexpectedly. “I don’t know if you two are just being more obvious now than you were or I just know what to look for now, but I really can’t believe I didn’t see it before now. But I guess you two have always gone so well together.”

“Some of both,” Barnaby said, sounding calmer and maybe only half as drunk as Kotetsu—which Kotetsu was pretty sure was just a very well-done act, considering that Barnaby had been pacing him drink for drink the entire night. “But thank you for saying so.”

“You’re welcome,” said Antonio, bemused. 

They sat through the speeches, Kotetsu paying significantly more attention to Barnaby’s fingers curled around his and resting on his knee than anything being said onstage. Kotetsu hated speeches even on his most responsible and sober of days, which today did not _remotely_ qualify as. 

Next thing he knew, they were being asked to pose for a few more photos, this time for some Hero Living magazine, and Kotetsu had barely finished saying yes when there was a hand pressed firm to the base of his spine and he was being _dipped_ in the middle of the floor like a 16-year-old at prom. For a few blinding seconds, all external details faded to black in the face of Barnaby’s arm wrapped firm around his waist and Barnaby kissing him, hard, there in front of God, the photographers, and everyone. 

“Remind me to never get drunk with you in public again,” Kotetsu mumbled, gripping Barnaby’s arm a little too hard as he was pulled upright again. “You turn into some kind of alpha male. I’m surprised you didn’t bite someone tonight.”

Barnaby at least had the grace to look abashed, casting him a sheepish glance as they tried to leave the room set aside for photography in a manner less reminiscent of teenagers sneaking off to hump in the back of someone’s car. “Sorry,” he said. “I, I should have behaved better…”

Kotetsu waved the hand not gripping Barnaby’s arm a little. “I’m not really complaining,” he admitted. He felt hot, oppressed in his nice suit; he wondered if his face looked as red and splotchy as it felt to him. Maybe it was just the booze. “It’s just—like I told you before, I’m not… used to it.”

“Well, better start getting used to it, then,” said Barnaby, and smiled at him. It was a helpless, sweet thing, as drunk and delighted as Kotetsu himself felt, and he couldn’t help but return it. The two of them just stood there by the door, grinning at each other from maybe a foot apart, as if no one and nothing else in the world mattered. 

Drunk and smitten as he was, Kotetsu could almost let himself believe that this could last. That someone as special and valuable as Barnaby might actually want a washed-up Hero like him as a partner, no matter how astonishing that idea felt to him.

* * * * *

They left before the gala was over, but after the main events had passed—Nathan had some sixth sense about their increasingly-desperate need to leave and obligingly made a huge fuss for them to slip away during, “accidentally” taking offense to something one of the paparazzi asked and causing a scene. Barnaby grabbed Kotetsu’s hand and they hurried down a hallway leading to one of the side exits, where a black limo waited to take them back to Barnaby’s flat’s, so they could finally be alone.

Kotetsu by this point had consumed three glasses of champagne before realizing that he ought to at least _try_ to slow down, and thus was thoroughly inebriated. Which was probably why, when they got in the back of the limo, he all but crawled into Barnaby’s lap, kissing and nipping at his mouth as though intent on eating his partner alive. Barnaby groaned and pulled him in closer, lashing his arms around Kotetsu as though afraid he was going to float away out the window if he let go for even an instant. Kotetsu had never in his life been the kind of man to drive without a seatbelt on, or let others do the same, and he’d certainly never been an exhibitionist, but he still somehow found himself kneeling between Barnaby’s spread thighs, one hand around the base of Barnaby’s thick cock, nuzzling its length and moaning as he licked a hot stripe up the underside of the shaft. 

Barnaby was breathing heavy, eyes glued to Kotetsu’s face and a hand tight in Kotetsu’s hair. It had come out of its ponytail at some point, the better for Barnaby to take great greedy fistfuls of it, which as far as Kotetsu was concerned was just fucking _fine_. 

“Kotetsu… god.. It’s not safe…” 

Kotetsu ignored this half-hearted protested and took it for the desperation it really was. He sat up slightly, leaning forward and opening his mouth to wrap his lips around the red, swollen head, suckling like Barnaby’s cock was the most delicious thing in the entire world. Barnaby let out a guttural groan that went straight to Kotetsu’s own dick, and Kotetsu fumbled a hand blindly between his own thighs, shoving it against his own erection.

The ride back to Barnaby’s flat was thankfully short. Barnaby tipped the man a staggering amount, then hustled Kotetsu up through the private entrance and stairway to his bedroom. He kept fumbling with his keys, dropping them at one point and cursing as they clattered on the pavement outside his door. Instead of dropping down to pick them up, he grabbed Kotetsu by both shoulders and shoved him against the wall, kissing him hard enough to make colors burst behind Kotetsu’s eyes, brighter by far than the fireworks at the gala they would be missing by leaving early. 

“Shouldn’t have had all that champagne,” Barnaby managed, finally pulling away to drag a few gasps of air into his lungs. “We really… Really shouldn’t be doing this till we’re sober—”

“Do you want me to leave?” Kotetsu demanded. He could hear the roughness in his own voice from having had Barnaby’s cock all the way down his throat, and the sense memory sent a flush of heat washing over him like standing in front of an oven. 

“ _No_ ,” Barnaby said. The answering heat in his voice was comforting. 

“Then what’s the problem?” 

Barnaby took a moment to fix him with a glare that would have been much more pointed if he hadn’t been red-faced and drunk on lust and sparkling wine. Then—one hand still pressed firmly into the center of Kotetsu’s chest, as if to stave off any lingering ideas he might have had about flouncing out—he crouched, retrieving his dropped keys from the floor. 

“There’s two,” he said, carefully. He reached past Kotetsu and unlocked the door to his apartment, tugging Kotetsu in half-with and half-before him, so that they weren’t out of physical contact for more than a split-second. “First, I just—I don’t want to take advantage of you while you’re drunk—”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Kotetsu interrupted, incredulous. Something about this whole day had made him brash, almost fearless; he couldn’t think past what felt good and right at this exact moment, this precious _now_ that he couldn’t let slip away, tomorrow and the rest of the future be damned. “I was ready to take your pants off before we even left the apartment. Besides—” Here he smiled cheekily, Barnaby blinking at him behind his glasses with those gorgeous green eyes of his, _fuck_ it was so distracting— “Why wouldn’t I want to have sex with my gorgeous fiance?”

Barnaby let out a breath. He seemed to be struggling with an answer. After a moment he relented, wrapping his arms possessively around Kotetsu’s shoulders once more, crowding him against the door, kissing Kotetsu over and over until Kotetsu was squirming and moaning against his mouth. Only then did he pull back from their kiss, staring intently into Kotetsu’s face from just inches away. “Fine, I believe you,” he said. 

“Good,” said Kotetsu. “What was the other thing?” He was sure it wouldn’t be important. Nothing was more important right now than getting to the point where they could stop talking and just fall into bed together, where he could surrender to this new thing he needed so desperately. 

“I don’t have very good self-control when I’m drunk,” Barnaby said softly. “It’s… been awhile for you, right? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Kotetsu flushed. This close and paying this much attention, Barnaby couldn’t possibly miss it. Barnaby smirked, leaning in to lick a wet line up the side of Kotetsu’s throat, dragging another gasping moan out of him. “I-I, I’m not… really worried about that,” Kotetsu stammered. His fingers dug into the fabric of Barnaby’s shirt, tugging it up and out of his pants.

“Well, I am,” Barnaby countered, “and I’m not as drunk as you are, so I get to be the rational one.”

“Are you really going to make us stop?” Kotetsu was whining now, and he didn’t give a fuck about it. “You’re not going to break my hip, Bunny—”

“I want to fuck you against the wall so hard you can’t do anything but cry and scream my name,” Barnaby cut in. The remainder of Kotetsu’s protest dried up in his throat, his cock throbbing with sudden _want_. “But I don’t—trust myself to even try right now.”

“We can do something else,” Kotetsu said unsteadily. By now he had succeeded in completely untucking Barnaby’s shirt, and had gotten his hands on blessedly bare skin, thumb rubbing against the sharp edge of Barnaby’s hip bone. “Bunny, please…!”

“Let me ride you,” Barnaby cut in. Kotetsu’s protesting died on his lips. His head seemed to swim for a moment, overcome with how attractive that offer was sounding to him right now. 

Barnaby was looking at him searchingly, waiting for some response, and since formulating anything resembling words was not happening at that exact moment, Kotetsu leaned forward, kissing him hard by way of answer. “Yes,” he managed hoarsely, between kisses. “God, yes.” 

Somehow they made it to the bedroom, though Kotetsu would never know how. He couldn’t bear to take his hands away from Barnaby, nor stop kissing him long enough to move; stripping out of their clothes was an exercise in shitty self-control and impatience. But all of a sudden Barnaby was backing him towards the bed, till the backs of his knees were catching up against the edge of the mattress, and then all it took was a small shove in the center of Kotetsu’s chest to over-balance him and send him toppling backwards onto the bed. “Ahh!”

“Don’t worry, old man,” Barnaby all but purred. “I’m coming.” He followed swiftly onto the bed, crawling on top of Kotetsu and pressing down, so that all the long lean lines of his body aligned with Kotetsu’s, his weight a delicious pressure holding him down on the bed. 

“Barnaby…” Barnaby had lost the glasses at some point in their drunken fumbling to remove their clothes and get to the bedroom, and now he leaned over Kotetsu, both of them naked with nothing but their sweat and skin to separate them any longer. Barnaby stared down at him with wide, perfect eyes that so few people got to see up close like this. For a moment, all Kotetsu could do was stare: at Barnaby’s long lashes that framed his brilliant green eyes; at the way his flaxen hair fell around his face, all messy and disheveled now from all their groping and making out. “How are you so perfect?” Kotetsu said out loud, without meaning to.

Barnaby smiled at him. “That means a lot, coming from you,” he said. He rolled his hips down against Kotetsu’s, the friction of his cock against Kotetsu’s making Kotetsu grab at him, moaning rather pathetically. “Not just a cute little bunny anymore, huh?”

“You’re not cute,” Kotetsu told him, as if it mattered. “You’re _impossible_.” Barnaby laughed. Kotetsu gave in to the urge he’d had for longer now than he cared to admit, wrapping himself around Barnaby like a human barnacle. Their legs tangled together, Kotetsu’s arms gathering his lover’s broad shoulders close, one hand cupping the back of Barnaby’s head, tangling in his thick hair. It had been awhile since Kotetsu had been with a man (well, with anyone, really), but nothing about this felt the least bit strange or alien—whether it was because he was drunk, or he’d been attracted to Barnaby longer than he was willing to admit while sober, or just that they had worked together so long that his partner felt like a second skin. It hardly mattered, and after a moment his struggling mind let it go, happy to focus on the touch and feel of Barnaby in his arms and on top of him. 

Barnaby seemed just as disinclined to keep his hands to himself as Kotetsu was. For a few minutes they indulged in just laying on the bed tangled up in each other, their hands roaming each other’s body as they kissed over and over until Kotetsu’s lips were swollen and he was sure Barnaby’s face would be chafed raw from Kotetsu’s beard. Kotetsu could feel that his stomach was slick now with the combination of their sweat and pre-come. His head was still swimming from the champagne, his limbs heavy and hot, aching from how much he wanted Barnaby. Barnaby was on top of him and touching him and kissing him and still it wasn’t enough, would never be enough. In that instant Kotetsu was swept up in a desperate wave of want: he wished with all his heart that he and Barnaby really _were_ getting married, that he could have this every day for the rest of his life. 

The thought made him start, and he broke away from kissing Barnaby, burying his face in his lover’s neck. “Barnaby,” he sighed, too overcome to put words to the things he was feeling, even if he’d been inclined to do so. 

“Kotetsu?” Barnaby sat up a little, petting Kotetsu’s hair back from his face. He nuzzled the side of Kotetsu’s face, kissing the corner of his eye. “Are you okay?”

Kotetsu swallowed thickly. “I need to pee,” he said, unsteady. Shit, he’d broken the seal, but there was nothing for it now. 

Barnaby let out a laugh. “Is that all? Okay.” He stole another kiss, something Kotetsu was hardly going to begrudge him, and then helped Kotetsu up out of the bed. Kotetsu’s legs had gone wobbly and unsteady as a newborn colt’s, but he managed to make it to the bathroom to relieve himself without actually falling down, no matter how close to it he felt. (His erection made it hard to manage, but he got by.)

He washed his hands, then splashed water on his face to try to collect himself a little, gasping at the cold. He lifted his head, staring at his own reflection for a few moments. The man in the mirror looked somewhere between wrecked and delirious, a shipwreck victim stumbling on an island paradise. “Get it together, Kaburagi,” he muttered.

Barnaby’s voice floated to him through the door. “Are you talking to yourself in there? Come back out here, I’m lonely without you!”

Kotestu’s heart turned over in his chest, like a motor starting up. Barnaby must really be drunk, he thought; his partner would never talk like this kind of garbage if he were sober, too restrained and serious to be given to this kind of emotionalism. “I’m coming!” he called back, and hurriedly dried off his hands and face before heading back out into the bedroom.

The sight that greeted him arrested him a scant few feet from the door. Barnaby was stretched out on his side on the bed, languorous and somehow dangerous; one leg was propped up, the other extended, exposing his stiff prick, jutting out from the dark blond thatch that surrounded his genitals. A number of swimsuit photo shoots meant that Barnaby kept his pubic hair in check, unlike Kotetsu’s thicker nest, a fact which now made Kotetsu’s head swim with the feeling of staring at something secret and forbidden on display for his eyes only. Barnaby was leaning on one elbow, stroking himself idly with his other hand, but his eyes were fixed on Kotetsu with a molten intensity. For a few seconds all Kotetsu could manage was to stand there, staring like a dumb animal, his tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth as he struggled to find two brain cells to rub together. 

“Are you going to keep standing there?” Barnaby asked, after a few moments. “Or are you going to come back here and give me what I want?”

 _Fuck_ , thought Kotetsu helplessly. “Anything you want,” he said out loud. It was enough to restart him into movement, and he he came back to the bed, crawling onto it and leaning down to greet Barnaby with a kiss. Barnaby reached out to cup his face, kissing him back, tugging Kotetsu down to meet him. 

“Don’t say that, you don’t know what I might ask for,” Barnaby murmured.

“You already know I’d die for you,” Kotetsu said, because his brain was too clouded to wonder if maybe that wasn’t the best possible thing for him to say. 

Barnaby’s expression shifted, complicated and hot. “Don’t joke about that, please,” he said, and Kotetsu dropped his gaze, a little embarrassed. “Besides. I can think of a lot more fun things than that.” 

Saying so, he pushed Kotetsu down until he was on his back again, and climbing on top of him once more, he grabbed for Kotetsu’s hand and guided it around to the crack of his ass, till Kotetsu’s fingers brushed his hole. The skin there was slick and slightly cool to the touch, and Kotetsu gasped, pressing harder instinctively, seeking confirmation. “Bunny! Did you—”

“Sorry,” said Barnaby, sounding not the slightest bit sorry. “I didn’t want to wait any longer.”

“So greedy.” Kotetsu turned, kissing his partner open-mouthed, wet and lewd as their tongues and lips worked against each other, a little bit of drool escaping down his chin. He pressed an exploratory finger against Barnaby’s asshole, eliciting a soft groan from his Barnaby. Barnaby’s ass was hot and wet from the slick and so _tight_ , pressing against Kotetsu’s finger, making his stomach clench with anticipation. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” Barnaby kissed him again for emphasis, then added, “Among other things.” 

Kotetsu swallowed. “Do you have, uh…”

“Right on the bedside table.” Kotetsu reached over, fumbling a moment before his fingers found the little box of condoms in the dark. He plucked one out, then paused, not having quite enough hands to manage. Barnaby took it from his fingers and opened it, sitting up and straddling Kotetsu’s hips, Kotetsu’s eyes glued to where he now had the condom out of its container. Kotetsu grabbed his own prick with one hand, groaning low in his throat as Barnaby unrolled the condom onto his dick, pressing firmly to get the fit right. Their hands met at the base of Kotetsu’s cock, and Kotetsu sat up, leaning up and kissing Barnaby again. Barnaby kissed him back, hard and messy and a little unsteady, Kotetsu’s finger still working slowly in and out of his ass. 

“I’m ready,” Barnaby murmured, his voice husky against Kotetsu’s lips. 

“But I’ve only used one finger—”

“It’s fine,” Barnaby cut in. “I can handle it.”

“Barnaby—!”

Barnaby grabbed him by the face and kissed him, hard, by way of shutting him up. Kotetsu’s protests crumbled, melting away like a sandcastle beneath an incoming tide. Satisfied, Barnaby kneeled up over him, straddling his thighs, still kissing him, his other hand on Kotetsu’s shoulder for balance. Kotetsu put a hand on his lover’s hip, his other holding his own cock in place, doing his level best to help guide Barnaby down. 

Kotetsu had thought that Barnaby might go slow, might take his sweet time, but they were still both too drunk for slow and steady—Barnaby might be more sober than Kotetsu, but it wasn’t by much. Kotetsu felt the flex of thigh muscles under his hand, felt the head of his cock pressing against the pucker of Barnaby’s asshole, and then, all at once, Barnaby pushed almost halfway down, enveloping Kotetsu in his heat. Kotetsu’s cry was met with an answering one from Barnaby, who let out such a wanton moan against Kotetsu’s temple that he could have sworn he would come right there. 

As if reading his mind, Barnaby straightened a little and whispered into his ear, “Don’t you dare come yet, old man. Not till I tell you to.” 

Kotetsu squeezed his eyes shut, his hand on his dick falling away and grabbing for Barnaby’s other hip. “Whatever you want,” Kotetsu said weakly. “Anything at all.”

Barnaby said something in response, but it was too hoarse and broken to understand. He pushed down at the same time, sinking the rest of the way onto Kotetsu’s cock, prompting another muffled groan from Kotetsu. 

Even though he was drunk, he would remember a shocking amount of that night in vivid detail. In his memory, everything had a sheen of unreality to it, a glossiness from either the champagne or just how delirious he was from finally getting to have Barnaby how he’d been wanting to so badly. Barnaby moved his hips like he was made of liquid instead of flesh and bone, his fingers digging hard into Kotetsu’s shoulders as Kotetsu kept his own hands braced at Barnaby’s waist—whether to help Barnaby balance or because Kotetsu needed to cling to the other man for dear life, it was hard to say. 

Kotetsu didn’t know how long they fucked; he lost track of everything but Barnaby’s mouth on his, the heat of Barnaby around his cock, Barnaby’s hands in his hair, Barnaby wanting him every bit as badly as Kotetsu to be with him. The uncertainty that had been dogging him for weeks had no place here in the darkness and the fumbling joining of their needy bodies. Barnaby came first, and Kotetsu held him, helping him lay down on the bed as he caught his breath, waiting a few minutes before he started moving again. Kotetsu finished there, Barnaby on his back with his long limbs wrapped around Kotetsu like he’d never let go, Kotetsu gasping out an oath against his neck. 

The last thing Kotetsu remembered was stirring feebly, he and Barnaby still intertwined like clinging vines. “Need a washcloth,” he mumbled indistinctly against Barnaby’s neck.

“In a second,” Barnaby said, and petted the back of Kotetsu’s head. Kotetsu sighed against Barnaby’s throat and shut his eyes, and remembered nothing more.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kotetsu and Barnaby pay a much-overdue trip out to Oriental Town to visit Kotetsu's family.

All things considered, the next morning was not half as awful as it had a right to be.

Kotetsu was awakened not by the thundering headache his hangover had saddled him with (although it arrived hard on the heels of his wakefulness), but by the smell of a cup of coffee just a few inches away. It was probably the best possible tactic to wake him without metaphorically poking a sleeping bear.

And it was not an inapt description. Buried in the tangle of blankets and pillows, squinting mistrustfully out at the world, Kotetsu was sure he resembled nothing so much as some disgruntled cave troll recently awakened from hibernation, but it apparently wasn’t enough to deter Barnaby in the slightest. Kotetsu felt the bed dip a moment after the coffee was set down, and then a soft hand found its way in through the pillow fort and was threading fingers gently through Kotetsu’s hair. 

“Wake up,” Barnaby murmured, close by his ear. “Kaede called, wanting to talk to you. I estimate she’ll call back in about twenty minutes.”

“Nnnrrhghhffh,” Kotetsu grated out.

“No, I will _not_ tell her you’re indisposed,” Barnaby said. “She was very insistent. She said you had promised we would go visit her.” Barnaby’s tone was suspiciously mild and pleasant for someone who by all rights should be at least somewhat as hungover as Kotetsu. 

_Promised we would go visit her…._ “Shit,” said Kotetsu out loud, and groaned.

“I thought as much,” said Barnaby.

“Ugghhh….” Kotetsu surrendered finally, pushing himself up and out of his troll-nest with a grunt of protest, pillows tumbling off the bed like men jumping from a sinking ship. He squinted blearily at the bedside table, then up at Barnaby. Barnaby swam into focus a few moments later, watching him a with a smile on his face. “So uh,” Kotetsu said blearily. “About what Kaede said—I meant to bring it up the other day, but I just—”

“Forgot,” Barnaby finished for him. His smile turned wry. “I figured. It’s okay, it’s been hectic. I made your coffee the way you like, and I brought you some Tylenol too.” Kotetsu glanced back over at the steaming mug, noticing for the first time the two little white pills sitting right by it.

“Thank you,” Kotetsu said belatedly. Still staring at the bedside table, he abruptly noticed a few other things: the box of condoms still sitting out, the little tube of lube, the ripped condom package they’d used the night before. The first few memories of the previous evening’s events came floating back to him, the memories as much tactile as knowledge-based: the feel of Barnaby’s mouth against his, the press of Barnaby’s thighs, the heat of his body tight around Kotetsu’s cock. Kotetsu felt himself flush, a roll of heat that started in his throat and burned through his face to the tips of his ears. 

Gingerly, he picked up the mug of coffee, sipping cautiously and then taking the pills Barnaby had brought him. Only then did he dare to take a sidelong peek at Barnaby again, to find the other man watching him with that same crooked smile on his face. “Did you, uh. Sleep well?” he ventured.

Barnaby laughed, softly. “Yes,” he said. Now that Kotetsu had actually summoned the courage and the minimum required number of braincells to look over at his partner, he noticed that although Barnaby looked more alert and collected than Kotetsu felt, his hair was still rather messy, pulled back in a ponytail just to keep it out of his face. He was in just a pair of boxers and a ripped-up sweatshirt, and he looked vaguely unshaven. 

“You haven’t showered yet,” Kotetsu said absently. Unshaven, grubbily-dressed Barnaby was somehow even more attractive than he had been the night before in his thousand-dollar suit and perfect hair. It was rude. Barnaby said something, but Kotetsu didn’t register that words had happened until he followed up with, “Kotetsu?”

“Eh?” Kotetsu started, quickly setting down his coffee mug and cursing as he sloshed some over the side on his fingers and the table. He jerked his hand back, sucking on his fingers, and then Barnaby reached over, snagging some tissue from the box on the bedside and blotting the spots that had dropped. “Uh, sorry…”

“It’s fine,” said Barnaby. He sounded amused more than anything else. “I said, I was waiting to see if my fiance wanted to join me in the shower.”

“Oh,” said Kotetsu, stupidly. He blinked, feeling slow and ill-equipped for rational thought, and gave it up as a bad job after a few more moments. “I’d like that,” he said shyly, and was rewarded with that small, golden smile of Barnaby’s. It went right to his stomach, not to mention regions further south, and he was no longer paying attention to the coffee when Barnaby extended a hand to help pull him out of bed.

After a shower that took longer than strictly necessary (involving activities that were hell on Kotetsu’s knees but a thousand times more effective at waking him up than mere caffeine), they pulled on clean shorts and t-shirts and went to make breakfast. Kotetsu waited until he had half a cup of coffee and a piece of toast in his stomach before returning Kaede’s phone call via video chat. Barnaby sat down next to him, a mason jar of cold oatmeal in front of him. 

Kaede answered on the second buzzy ring. “ _There_ you are,” she blurted, all but bursting with impatience. “Jeez, Dad—oh! Barnaby!” Kotetsu couldn’t help but grin at the way she broke off, turning as flustered as he so frequently got himself around Barnaby. He didn’t know whether it was Barnaby’s fault, or just a Kaburagi family trait. Probably some of both.

“Hi, Kaede-chan,” said Barnaby, sounding warm instead of merely professional. Kotetsu smiled instinctively; it felt remarkably good to hear Barnaby sounding so warm towards his family members. “Sorry we took a few minutes. I had to make a phone call, and Kotetsu was waiting for me to be done.”

“Oh,” said Kaede, sounding nonplussed. Kotetsu might no longer be very fond of telling his daughter white lies, especially when he’d had to fib to her for years about why he couldn’t come home more frequently, but after a moment of contemplating what it would be like to tell her the real reason they hadn’t called her back right away, decided this particular fiction could stand. “Well, that’s fine. Are you guys coming to see us today?”

“Well—” Kotetsu began.

“Absolutely,” said Barnaby, at the same time. 

Kaede’s face lit up. “Really?” she cried.

Fuck. “Really,” said Kotetsu, firmly. He felt Barnaby’s hand creep around to his waist, squeezing gently. 

“Grandma, they’re coming! When are you coming?”

“Is today still okay?” Barnaby asked. “We can give you a couple of days if you need more time than that to prepare, we don’t want to impose.”

“No, come today! Grandma is going to make a special dinner and she wanted to know if you would both be here!”

“Okay,” said Kotetsu again, and meant it, even though Agnes and Lloyd would both probably burst a gasket when they heard that their Hero duo was going to be taking off with such little notice. 

They chatted for a little while longer, finalizing a few details, and then Kaede got off the phone, her excitement at the impending visit only barely contained. Kotetsu and Barnaby sat at the kitchen table for a few minutes longer, contentedly finishing their breakfast. Between the coffee, the sex, and the painkillers, Kotetsu’s headache had been reduced to a barely-there ache, softened by a feeling of such overall contentment as he hadn’t really known in years. 

He couldn’t help but wonder how long this could last. Something else occurred to him, and he turned to Barnaby. “How are you feeling?” he asked. 

Barnaby glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow questioningly. “I’m fine,” he responded, the tone of his voice suggesting he thought Kotetsu was a bit daft for even asking such a question. “Better than fine.”

“I, uh, I just meant—” Kotetsu broke off, floundering over his words. Christ, he’d known Barnaby how long now, and the man was still able to have this kind of effect on him? _Didn’t know him like this,_ said a knowing voice in the back of his head, and Kotetsu almost choked. “I just meant, after—last night. Uh, that is—”

Barnaby laughed as Kotetsu trailed off into word-soup again. “The answer is the same,” he said, gently. “Better than fine. Now, you should start packing, while I call Agnes and Lloyd to let them know what we’re doing.”

“Are you sure you want to paint a target on your back like that?” 

“Better me than you,” Barnaby said mildly. 

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Kotetsu admitted. For a variety of reasons (some valid, some utterly arbitrary as far as Kotetsu was concerned) their superiors tended to take bad news better from Barnaby than from Kotetsu. “Just—can you please tell them not to actually _announce_ that we’re going to see my family?”

“Of course,” said Barnaby, and stood, dropping a kiss on Kotetsu’s cheek. He started to straighten up, but Kotetsu reached up and caught his face before he could finish, kissing him properly before letting him go.

Kotetsu might not know what to make of last night (or really, the past few days), but he would continue to get by by doing what felt right and not thinking too hard about it for as long as that tactic continued to work.

* * * * *

A few hours, several trying phone calls, and another round of enthusiastic making out on the bed later, Kotetsu and Barnaby finally left for Oriental Town. They had briefly discussed taking Barnaby’s bike, but since it was a several-hour journey, they ultimately opted to take a first-class car on a train. Kotetsu’s brother Muramasa would be picking them up at the train station, and they would head directly home from there.

(“You really don’t think we’ll have any trouble with the public?” Barnaby had asked, as they were finishing packing up. “We’re on the cover of almost every newspaper and magazine right now.”

“Yeah, but everyone just knows me as Kotetsu in Oriental Town,” Kotetsu pointed out. “And we’ll just be in our normal clothes, you know? I really think it’ll be fine. Half the people in Oriental Town don’t even own TVs.”

“Whatever you think is best,” Barnaby had said, and kissed him again. Really, Kotetsu had thought, it was a wonder they got out of the house before noon.)

The train ride passed in comfortable silence. Kotetsu had initially been a little worried despite his own assurances about their relative invisibility (as much about whether they’d get harassed as by the prospect of being stuck in a train suite for several hours with Barnaby with nothing to distract them from any looming Serious Conversations), but his concern ended up being a moot point: he fell asleep with his head pillowed on Barnaby’s shoulders not ten minutes into their trip, and awakened the stop before Oriental Town, groggy and sore and disoriented. 

“Ah, you’re awake,” Barnaby said. “I got you a sandwich from the cart in case you were hungry, but I guess we’re almost there.”

“Sorry,” said Kotetsu sheepishly. He took the sandwich from where it sat on the opposite side of Barnaby, unwrapping it and glancing out the window at the countryside. “The next stop is Oriental Town?”

“Uh huh. I texted Kaede to tell her, and she said your brother was on his way to the station, so he should be there when we arrive.”

“Oh, good,” said Kotetsu. “I can’t remember, have you met Muramasa before? I know you’ve met Kaede.”

“Kaede is the only member of your family I have met,” Barnaby said. “I’m looking forward to seeing her again, though. If your brother is anything like you or her—”

“He’s not, really,” Kotetsu said, grinning ruefully. He took a bite out of the sandwich, and then added (around a mouthful of roast beef and cheese), “Very serious and stoic. I’m pretty sure he took his sense of humor out back and shot it when he was still in high school.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, old man,” said Barnaby. Kotetsu puffed his cheeks at Barnaby, still chewing, like some kind of angry squirrel. Barnaby made a disgusted noise in his throat and dug his elbow into Kotetsu’s ribcage, causing Kotetsu to squawk and flop over melodramatically onto the length of the train couch. 

“And to think you’re the older of the two of us,” Barnaby commented. His lips were pressed into a thin line that screamed disapproval, but even as Kotetsu peeked up at him, he saw a twitch at the corner of Barnaby’s mouth. Kotetsu responded by wriggling around until he could drape his legs over Barnaby’s lap, propping himself up on some of the scattered pillows so that he could finish eating his sandwich. Barnaby let out a much-put-upon sigh as Kotetsu arranged his legs over Barnaby’s lap, but he made no attempt to shove Kotetsu off or get up. 

“You’re too serious,” Kotetsu announced, after he swallowed another bite of sandwich. “We’re on vacation right now, okay? No photographers or journalists or TV show hosts to harass us. So smile a little, okay?”

“Just because I didn’t leave my dignity back in Sternbild doesn’t meant I’m too serious,” said Barnaby severely. 

“Come on,” Kotetsu said, wheedling. “You’re so much cuter when you smile!” Barnaby responded by staring at him with such intense bitchface that Kotetsu choked on his sandwich.

Kotetsu, of course, wouldn’t know to leave well enough alone if the Holy Virgin herself descended with a carven tablet, so he spent the next ten minutes making various god-awful faces at Barnaby. Barnaby responded by shoving Kotetsu’s face away whenever Kotetsu attempted to kiss him, finally resulting in Kotetsu toppling off the couch when the train shuddered and started to slow as it reached their stop. 

“Time to stop pouting, old man,” Barnaby said, rising gracefully from his seat. Kotetsu shot him a dirty look as he scrambled up from the floor and went to grab his stuff. 

The train was thankfully half-empty, and no one really paid them any mind as they collected their things and quietly slipped off onto the platform. Muramasa was smack in the middle of the platform, somehow managing to look ill at ease and out-of-place despite being dressed perfectly normally. His constipated expression eased somewhat when he laid eyes on Kotetsu, and he started forward, reaching out his hands to grab hold of one of Kotetsu’s suitcases.

“There you are,” he said gruffly. “I half-expected to get a phone call from one of you saying that you’d been called away for work again.”

“That would have been an interesting train ride,” said Barnaby lightly. He bowed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kaburagi.”

Muramasa waved a hand. “It’s an honor, Mr. Brooks. Now, come on, Kaede has been calling every three minutes to see if you’ve arrived yet.”

“I admit, I was expecting to see her here,” said Kotetsu, trying (and probably failing) not to let on his disappointment that his daughter wasn’t here.

Muramasa glanced at him, his severe expression softening slightly as they walked towards the exit. “Don’t be too sad,” he said. “She won’t admit it, but she wanted to stay home and make sure everything was perfect for when you two arrived. Besides, we all thought it might make you more noticeable if she was here freaking out on the train platform.”

“I guess that’s true,” said Kotetsu, somewhat mollified. Moments later, he felt Barnaby’s fingers brush against his in passing, just the briefest of touches, and he glanced over to see Barnaby’s eyes on him, though his expression was as reserved as ever. 

The drive home was relatively fast, although not as fast as Kotetsu would have liked; Muramasa was his usual stoic self, responding to Barnaby’s attempts to engage him in conversation with one-word answers or even grunts. Out of desperation, Kotetsu launched into the story of them facing off against Enigma, complete with getting stuck together in sticky webbing and having to be rescued via Nathan’s high-intensity flames. At the culmination of this story, Muramasa finally cracked a smile. “Sounds like fun,” he said. “So much for dignity.”

“It’s a living,” said Kotetsu, grinning in relief. 

“Kotetsu said that you own a bar?” Barnaby ventured, glancing at Kotetsu, whether for permission or encouragement, Kotetsu was unsure. 

“I do,” said Muramasa. “We can’t all lead an exciting life being Heroes.” He glanced up at them, their eyes meeting in the mirror, and for the briefest of moments Kotetsu was sure that his brother was actually _mad_ at them, but then to his everlasting relief Muramasa added, “It’s good you came out to get a break from all that. The way Kaede tells it, the two of you have been on the news every minute of the day since you made your big announcement.”

Kotetsu’s stomach did an impressive back-flip inside his ribcage. It hit him then that this entire trip was predicated on a very elaborate lie—something he’d somehow managed to forget about in the warm romantic haze of the past few days. Sooner or later, wouldn’t he have to explain this to his family somehow? 

“We realized that if we didn’t make time to come out for a visit, we’d never get any,” Barnaby said. Warm fingers intertwined with Kotetsu’s where his hand was curled anxiously in his lap; Kotetsu glanced up at him, mutely grateful for the intercession. “Kaede-chan is not wrong. It has been very… trying.”

“No kidding.” It was more than Muramasa had said almost the entire rest of the car trip. He seemed to mull this information over for another minute or so, a minute in which Kotetsu’s mental chorus was doing its best rendition of ‘all of your ideas are bad and you should feel bad.’ Kotetsu was starting to think that the ‘conversation’ (such as it was) was over when Muramasa said, gruffly, “Congratulations on your engagement. I think you’re both crazy for announcing it like that, but you were always the one to do the right thing even when it scared you, Kotetsu.”

Kotetsu swallowed, his throat suddenly thick. “Thank you, big brother,” he managed. 

“Thank you, Mr. Kaburagi,” Barnaby chimed in. But out of the corner of his eye Kotetsu could see that it was him Barnaby was looking at, not Muramasa, a small, knowing smile on his face. 

“At least now you have someone to look after you, Kotetsu,” Muramasa continued, with all the grace of a hippo doing ballet. “I was always worrying how you’d get by after Tomoe was gone.”

“I understand Tomoe was a remarkable woman,” said Barnaby, before Kotetsu could manage to collect himself enough to tell everyone to shut up and stop talking about him as if he wasn’t there. “But I would expect no less, considering that her husband is a remarkable man. It’s an important job and I’m honored to be given it.”

“I’m _right here_ ,” Kotetsu said loudly, but Muramasa was looking approvingly in the mirror at Barnaby and utterly ignoring Kotetsu at this point. 

“You were the one who dragged Kotetsu away from work long enough for this visit, aren’t you?” Muramasa asked.

“Hello! Right here!”

“It’s true,” Barnaby said. He was grinning now too. “To be fair, it’s not a job we can easily take time from, but we both felt this was important. It’s not every day you get engaged.”

Kotetsu was saved from having to throttle either his brother or his “fiance” by the fact that his family’s house came into view as they crested the next hill. Kaede was in the front yard, apparently gathering flowers from Anju’s garden, but at the sight of Muramasa’s van, she straightened up and ran back inside like a scalded cat. Moments later, as Muramasa pulled the van into the driveway, both Anju and Kaede emerged from the front door of their house and came down towards the drive—Anju more sedately, Kaede hurrying before her. 

They got out of the car, Barnaby first and Kotetsu after him. Kotetsu would have bet money that even now, Kaede would have been more excited to see Barnaby than she was Kotetsu, but to his shock (and gratification) she cried “DAD!” and lost what apparently remained of her inhibition and broke, running down the driveway towards her father and throwing herself into his arms. 

“Kaede,” Kotetsu croaked out, his voice suddenly tight. He grabbed her up, swinging her around like she was four instead of ten, squeezing her tight before finally setting her down again. 

“Welcome home, Kotetsu,” said Anju, smiling as she brought up the rear. “And you, too, Barnaby. We’re so glad you could come.”

“I didn’t actually think you would be able to get away,” said Kaede, her voice muffled against Kotetsu’s chest. She pulled back, exerting something resembling a little self-control, and bowed to Barnaby. “Welcome to our house, Mr. Brooks.”

“It’s my pleasure,” said Barnaby. One glance at him confirmed for Kotetsu what he’d suspected by hearing his lover talk: Barnaby was smiling widely, but doing his best to be formal. As Kotetsu watched, he bowed low, from the waist, and then took Anju’s hand and lightly kissed the backs of her knuckles. Anju let out a small exclamation, laughing and pulling her hand away, but she was smiling. 

“Come inside, all of you,” she said, gathering her robes and gesturing at their suitcases, which Muramasa had already unloaded from the van. Kotetsu protested, but his brother just grabbed both bags and followed their mother in, Kaede hurrying ahead as well—no doubt to see to something she’d been working on today, the reason she had stayed home. 

All Kotetsu could do was turn to his lover, taking his hand and accepting a kiss on the cheek before they followed the rest of the family inside.

* * * * *

Their original plan had been to only stay for a couple of days, but when Kaede reminded him that the annual summer festival was happening this upcoming weekend, Kotetsu gave in to the urge to take a longer vacation and stay. To his surprise, Barnaby gave him no objections, but later Kotetsu wondered why he had thought Barnaby would mind—his personal onus was long abated, and even if he didn’t show it, it was likely that he was just as stressed from the constant media barrage as Kotetsu was. Probably this was as much a welcome respite for him as it was for Kotetsu.

They didn’t _not_ get recognized that week in Kotetsu’s little hometown, but—much to Kotetsu’s delight—the locals seemed disinclined to bother them. The handful of times that someone did recognize them, it was because of Barnaby, and the only people who actually said anything were all small children, who crept up to Barnaby with wide eyes and shyly asked if he was _really_ legendary Hero Barnaby Brooks Jr. like Mommy said he was. Barnaby responded by plucking the little girl in question from the ground with a warm smile, telling her very seriously that he was, but he and his partner were here on a secret mission and he needed her help to keep him safe, could she do that for him? The little girl nodded, her dark hair in twin plaits that framed her face, her eyes green and very wide. When Barnaby set her down again, she went scuttling back to her mother, all smiles. 

“When did you get so good with kids?” Kotetsu asked him, amused and more than a little affected by the sight of his handsome lover holding a child so tenderly and easily. Barnaby just shrugged. 

For his own part, Kotetsu went back and forth on whether or not he should wear his mask, but ultimately, as Barnaby suggested, he opted not to. Wearing the mask was, here, only an indication that he had something to hide, and even if they couldn’t necessarily walk down the street hand-in-hand as Kotetsu secretly very much wanted, they were still able to go about their days without fear of harassment or the flash of cameras.

He did have a few rocky parts concerning Kaede. Even after his year living at home before returning to Hero work, and even though she now actually knew what he did for a living, he still had the annoying tendency to treat her like she was younger than she actually was. But after a couple days, things smoothed out to the point where she actually got up the nerve to ask him about how it came about that he and Barnaby started dating, and what it was like. 

(The man in question was, of course, not currently home; he’d gone further into town to collect some things for dinner, while Kotetsu had stayed home to help Kaede with some chores around the house so they could all go to a movie later.)

“Well,” Kotetsu said, casting about for a way he could somehow change the subject and coming up dry, “It’s—it’s—it’s actually not that different from just being his partner, to be honest. We do some things that we didn’t when we were just a Hero duo, but not that much.”

“Really?” Kaede sounded at once skeptical and deeply, deeply interested. She leaned on her broom, eyeing her father with a level of scrutiny Kotetsu thought would be more appropriate for interrogating criminals or prisoners of war.

He found he was warming to the topic, despite himself. “Well, sure,” Kotetsu said. “We still make dinner and watch movies and tell each other about our day, like we did before. And he was already the person I spent the most time with, you know? Because he’s my partner.”

“And you saved each other’s lives,” Kaede put in. 

“Yes, we have,” acknowledged Kotetsu. “But I mean—that’s important, but what’s more important is that I trust him and he trusts me. And he’s my best friend.” 

“Your best friend that you kiss,” Kaede said. Kotetsu stared at her, and as if realizing what she said, she turned red just like her dad and went back to sweeping the walk. They switched to a new topic after that, but Kotetsu found himself thinking about the conversation, and wondering where, exactly, the lie was supposed to be. 

Muramasa seemed to have taken a shine to Barnaby, inviting him to come down to the bar he managed and engaging him in conversation over family dinner in the evenings. Kotetsu couldn’t decide if this was hilarious or irritating, or both. Ultimately, he decided that he preferred it to the alternative. 

Anju and Kaede had gone to the trouble of arranging the guest bedroom for the two of them to sleep in. Kotetsu had a brief period of being scandalized by this, until he belatedly remembered that not only was Barnaby the Hero who had turned Kotetsu’s career around and saved his life on more than one occasion, he was (more importantly) ostensibly Anju’s future son-in-law. Either way, Kotetsu was grateful. 

He and Barnaby made love every night of their visit—something Kotetsu resisted at first, but wanted too badly to put up much of a fight about. He did, at least, insist on being as quiet as humanly possible, a demand Barnaby acquiesced to without any argument. It did not stop Barnaby from swallowing all of Kotetsu’s noises with hungry kisses, or prevent them from using an entire box of condoms in the 8 days they stayed over. And it _was_ lovemaking, not just sex, or at least, that’s how Kotetsu thought of it; he couldn’t think of it as merely fucking. Not with the tender way that Barnaby held him while they moved together in the dark, only the starlight shining in through the windows to illuminate their sweating bodies and bear witness to the desperate, helpless way that Kotetsu dug his fingers into Barnaby’s shoulders.

But really, he was trying not to think about it at all. He wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in Barnaby’s arms at night. To eat breakfast with his family in the morning and see the respect and love in his daughter’s eyes that he’d wanted so badly for so long. To walk along the quiet little main street of his hometown, eating onigiri from the corner shop and telling Barnaby about all the dumb things he’d gotten up to here as a high school student. 

The day of the summer festival dawned clear and sunny, a light breeze blowing in from the direction of the sea. That morning at breakfast, Kotetsu’s family surprised him and Barnaby with a pair of yukatas for them to wear out to the festival. Barnaby looked almost as flabbergasted as Kotetsu felt, but even though Kotetsu had been afraid his lover would protest the gift overmuch, he ultimately accepted it with his usual grace. 

That day was like a jewel hanging bright and perfect in Kotetsu’s memory: the balmy weather, the scent of lavender in the air, the sight of his entire family in yukatas walking down to the festival together. And Barnaby was at his side, looking painfully handsome in his new blue-and-goldenrod sunburst yukata, a lovely complement to the dark green-and-blue ocean themed yukata Kotetsu had been given. Kotetsu found himself staring more than once, until either Kaede or Barnaby said something to snap him out of it, at which point he’d stammer an apology and shuffle off to the nearest booth by way of distraction.

Kotetsu hadn’t been to a festival in a long while, and one in his hometown in far, far longer. The last time he’d come to this particular festival, Tomoe had been four months pregnant with Kaede, and there had been no wrinkles at the corners of Kotetsu’s eyes. Kotetsu let his mind wander, reminiscing a little—but not too much. He made certain not to miss the moments when Barnaby’s fingers brushed his as they wandered down the aisles, and he did not miss the opportunity to take pictures of his daughter in her own beautiful purple yukata, her hair pinned in an elaborate updo that Anju had clearly helped her with.

Barnaby won him a stuffed koi fish plush, which Kotetsu should not have been nearly as pleased with as he was. Kotetsu held it tucked against his side as they walked the fairway, the evening coming on now. They were eating takoyaki on a stick, idly perusing the different vendors, and Kotetsu could not help but find it ironic that even though they were ostensibly having a public relationship, right now they were both avoiding taking each other’s hand out of desire to avoid excessive attention. 

He let his gaze wander as they walked, alighting on the myriad paper lanterns dangling from tree-branches and street lights and hung in every shop window. By now darkness had fallen, and the soft light cast by the lanterns made it seem as though the mantle of heaven had descended to earth to light the streets with their celestial glow. 

A tug on his hand caught his attention. “Kotetsu, let’s go this way,” said Barnaby.

“Where are we—”

“Come on,” Barnaby said insistently. He’d laced his fingers through Kotetsu’s and was now pulling him down the street that led out of the main festival area. “There’s something I want to see with you.”

“Oh, alright,” Kotetsu said, relenting. Though he supposed it could not really be said that he was giving in if he hadn’t been putting up a fight in the first place.

The street led them towards a hill along one edge of town, a meandering walkway winding up and around the hillside, carven stone stairs set into the countryside years ago that were now starting to crack and sit askew in their places. Barnaby took Kotetsu’s hand firmly in his, leading him up the stairs and around the sweet little rock garden hidden away on the hillside, into a more forested area, twilight already dark in the tree boughs. Kotetsu was just starting to wonder when and whether Kaede and the rest of their family would miss them if they were gone for too long when Barnaby made a turn down a path Kotetsu didn’t remember (or had simply forgotten about). 

They emerged through a break in the trees onto a small promontory, open to the night sky and the countryside below. Kotetsu found himself speechless, staring at the dreamlike plateau set out before them: He could see the entire village from here, laid out before them like a toy set. This far away, the paper lanterns looked like fireflies, glittering in the night air. 

“How did you know this view was here?” Kotetsu demanded, after he’d managed to swallow down the lump in his throat. 

“Kaede showed it to me,” Barnaby said. He looked smug. Kotetsu supposed he had just cause. “I am lucky that she’s been so accepting of me.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Kotetsu brusquely. “Why wouldn’t she accept you? You’re the King of Heroes.” Kotetsu swiped at his face with the back of his hand and blinked rapidly to get rid of whatever it was that was stinging his eyes. 

“Not anymore, I’m not. And she’s very protective of you, understandably. I’m honored that she’s decided to trust me with you.” Kotetsu found that he had no way to respond to that, and after a moment he decided it wasn’t worth it to try. Barnaby wrapped his arms around Kotetsu from behind, his cheek against Kotetsu’s ear; Kotetsu leaned back into his embrace, gazing out at the beautiful scenery below them. 

“No,” Kotetsu murmured, mostly to himself. “I’m the lucky one.” He felt Barnaby’s face shift slightly, his lips brushing Kotetsu’s cheek; Kotetsu smiled automatically. Then Barnaby reached over to catch Kotetsu’s face in one hand, turning him to face Barnaby, and Kotetsu let his eyes shut as they kissed, more at peace than he could remember being for years.

In retrospect, he should have known anything so magical could not last for very long. But at the time, with the shimmering paper lanterns lighting up the streets of his hometown and the arms of the man he loved wrapped around him, Kotetsu couldn’t help but hope that someone like him might be permitted to have a second chance at real, lasting happiness.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things go to hell, they REALLY go to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we're back! Thanks everyone for your patience, I'm all done with finals now -- please enjoy the chapter update!

They got the phone call early the next morning. 

Kotetsu was still asleep with his face shoved against Barnaby’s clavicle when their wristbands started going off. Barnaby was the one to answer it, rolling slightly onto his back and tapping the answer button. “Heroes,” said Agnes, her voice tight. The urgency in that one word did more to wake Kotetsu up than any alarm ever made. “You need to come back to Sternbild right now.”

“What’s wrong?” Barnaby asked. Kotetsu sat up, peripherally aware of how his hair must look right now—when he was freshly awoken, his eyebrows had the unfortunate habit of sticking straight up, as though he’d been stuck in a wind tunnel, to say nothing of the bird’s nest his hair resembled when first rolling out of bed. But nobody was paying attention to his hair right at that moment. 

“Someone has leaked all of Tiger’s personal information to the press,” Agnes said.

“ _What_?” Kotetsu yelped.

“Who?” demanded Barnaby. He sounded abruptly furious. 

“We don’t know,” said Agnes, “not yet, anyway. We’re doing damage control, but you need to come back right away. We’ll need a statement from you before noon, if possible.”

“I’ve got a statement for you,” said Kotetsu, reckless, because his brain wasn’t fully functional yet beyond the hot shock of fear and outrage that someone had violated the principal code of being a Hero so egregiously. That was the number one rule of being a Hero, of Hero TV: the viewers and public got to see their struggles and trials, got safety and entertainment value all in one go. In exchange, the Heroes got a job they could do real good in, and the safety of keeping their NEXT status anonymous (or as close as possible) while still being able to use their abilities. “Tell whoever did the leak to take my boot and shove it—”

“Tiger, this is serious,” Agnes snapped. “The trash magazines are all over this! They know your wife’s name, they know your address in Sternbild City, and they even somehow managed to find out that you have a daughter from your first marriage!”

Kotetsu’s mouth snapped shut, his stomach turning over and lurching horribly. “Do they know anything else?” he asked, trying not to give in to the urge to be sick all over the comm-unit. Distantly he could feel Barnaby’s hand on his shoulder, reassuring, but even that was doing little to ease the awful illness in the back of his skull. “Is my family safe?”

“That’s what we’re trying to determine right now,” Agnes said. Kotetsu was able to note that she looked about as thrilled as Kotetsu felt, and he spared a moment to be glad that such a formidable and frightening woman was currently on his side, instead of ripping him a new asshole. “Currently, no, it doesn’t seem like they know any more concrete details—no mention of your family members’ names, or where they live, or any other identifying details. But if we don’t try to correct the situation, that could change very quickly.”

“We’re coming as fast as we can,” said Barnaby firmly. 

“We can send a retrieval unit to come get you—”

“No,” Kotetsu cut in, sharp. “If you show up here with a helicopter, everyone will be able to figure out that my family lives here.”

There was a pause. “We could pick you up at a location outside town,” Agnes said after a moment, frowning slightly. “The quicker you get back here, the better.”

“We are not going to put Kotetsu’s family at risk,” Barnaby said. “But that might work. Kotetsu, your brother could drive us to that abandoned farm on the outskirts of town?”

They spent a few more minutes discussing the immediate details, then got off the comm-link. Kotetsu bent forward, his head in his hands; Barnaby was sitting up next to him, his hand on Kotetsu’s upper back, face turned towards Kotetsu in concern. “I’ll be fine,” Kotetsu said after a moment, taking a deep breath. “Let’s get going.”

It was not the most ideal way to end their trip.

Five hours later, after an entirely-too-tense goodbye and helicopter trip back that nearly had Kotetsu vomiting all over the cockpit floor (he hated helicopters—they were so much worse than planes, somehow), they arrived back in Sternbild to discover that the situation was somehow worse than what Agnes had told them over comm-unit. Their first stop was originally to Kotetsu’s apartment to pick up a few items, but to Kotetsu’s dismay he found that a fucking _throng_ of people were hovering outside his building—no doubt just waiting for him to appear. The nondescript car they were in slowed as it approached Kotetsu’s block on the street, but Barnaby took one look at Kotetsu’s stricken face and leaned forward. “Keep driving,” he said sharply. “Just keep going, don’t stop.”

“But sir—”

“Do as I said!” Barnaby snapped. The driver shut up, and the car sped up again. Kotetsu sank back in his seat, staring out the window at the milling crowd, wondering how in the world this had happened. 

Every new development seemed worse than the last. When they got back to headquarters, Agnes and Lloyd were waiting with a list of talking points they should try to stick to, a list of possible leads on the leak, and news that their rogue NEXT had struck again in their absence, this time at the historic train station on the south side of Sternbild. 

Whatever high point they’d been sitting peacefully at while visiting Kotetsu’s family, they’d passed and were now in a rapid downward slide; the information leak was like the fallen rock that started an entire avalanche. The very next day, while still nursing his irritation over needing an escort just to get to his own apartment without harassment, Kotetsu and Barnaby waded into their paperwork and fanmail. Kotetsu was grateful to see that a large chunk of it was still positive, but a new sub-genre of awful letters had started arriving. Some had already begun before they’d even gone on vacation, of course; girls and women sending him and Barnaby their underwear, along with detailed descriptions of what they’d like to do if they got him alone, the whole nine yards. At least those were funny (if sort of traumatizing).

And while Kotetsu had already gotten the occasional death threat prior to this, the new information about his past seemed to bring out a truly nasty side in some people. The reveal of new information made some people act as though they were now entitled to even more information. Kotetsu got letters (and interviews) asking nearly constantly about his daughter, about Tomoe, about whether his engagement to Barnaby was just a stunt to revive his career now that he was down to just one minute of power left. Those would have been the worst, if not for the people flinging the really vile accusations—letters calling him ‘poison’ for Barnaby, saying that he was corrupting Barnaby, that Barnaby would wind up dead because of him just like Tomoe had.

Those hurt. Kotetsu had never in his life been tempted to take up the standing offer of a personal assistant to go through his mail, but the second day back he made it through an hour of fanmail before he called Agnes to tell her he wanted someone to delegate the task to, at least for now. 

Agnes and Lloyd had suggested that Kotetsu move out of his current apartment literally almost as soon as he returned to Sternbild, but naturally, Kotetsu resisted. The pressure of the next three days wore steadily on him, however, and by the time he’d made his second trip over to his apartment to gather some more clothing, he was so worn down by the constant throng of people (how could there be people there at 11 at night? Didn’t they have homes to go to?!) and picturing the upcoming months of endless harassment at his current location, he finally caved.

“We’ll find you somewhere with better security, so that even if your new address somehow also gets leaked, you can enter and exit without harassment,” Lloyd told him, not unkindly. (Truthfully, since the start of this, Lloyd and Agnes both had been acting much more solicitously towards him than they had in pretty much his entire career. Kotetsu couldn’t help but wonder whether that was because of Barnaby or because of the fact that Kotetsu was now even more popular than he was when he himself had been King of Heroes back in his heyday, but he ultimately opted not to care.) “In the meantime, just stay at Barnaby’s.”

As if he would be doing anything else. For his own part, Barnaby had had to all but be pried away from Kotetsu’s side, his normally sunny public disposition replaced by a storm cloud. Barnaby made a public statement the day of their arrival that whoever had violated Kotetsu’s privacy would be answering to the both of them, personally, and that the insult would not go unaddressed. It got to the point that Kotetsu actually had to take him aside during one of their appearances, ducking into a hall and shutting the door before turning to look at Barnaby’s questioning face. “Kotetsu, why are we—”

“You know I can protect myself, right?”

The question seemed to take Barnaby off guard. “Of course you can,” he said after a moment, blinking at Kotetsu. He pushed his glasses up his nose, something that by now Kotetsu knew that he did when he was feeling taken aback or thinking fast. “We would not be partners if you couldn’t.”

“Well, I’m not your equal anymore and you know it, but—”

“Yes you are,” Barnaby said sharply. “We’ve had this conversation, is now really the time to rehash it?”

They _had_ had it. Kotetsu had even thought he’d come to terms with it, but the recent bout of vicious (if baseless) insults was getting to him more than he wanted to admit. Kotetsu let out a breath and forced himself to let it go, at least for now. “Anyway,” he continued, “if you really think that, you should let me be the one to tell everyone to back off, okay?”

Barnaby’s expression slid from indignation to mild confusion with a faint nose-crinkle of embarrassment. “I am sorry if I have been too pushy,” he began, picking his words carefully.

Kotetsu cut him off. “I know you’re just trying to protect me,” he said, his voice softening. He stepped closer, catching his fingers in Barnaby’s belt-loops and tugging him forward, so that their faces were just inches apart. “But this is a partnership, right? So let me do my share.”

“Alright,” Barnaby said, barely audible at all. Kotetsu kissed him then, and Barnaby kissed him back, his hand sliding into Kotetsu’s hair to cup the back of his head. 

It was the only semi-sweet moment they got that entire day and the three that followed it. The rest of the afternoon was a blur of interviews and screaming crowds. When they actually got a call to go fight a group of criminals breaking into a bank on the north side of town, Kotetsu thought he’d never been so glad to hear of criminal activity in his life. They didn’t get back to Barnaby’s apartment till almost ten pm, and Kotetsu all but collapsed onto the couch, throwing his arm over his face with a groan.

“If this keeps up, going back into retirement is going to sound more and more appealing,” he announced, from underneath his arm.

“No kidding,” said Barnaby from somewhere above him and to his right. “I can’t wait till we find Enigma and stop them for good. Then maybe things can go back to something like normal, and we can have our lives back.”

Kotetsu opened his mouth to return with some kind of smart remark, but then what Barnaby said caught up to him, hitting him sharp and fast like whiplash. He snapped his mouth shut, a chill washing through him as though he was laying on the beach and the tide had just rolled over him. 

Since their trip home to see his family—since the night at the gala, really—Kotetsu had started to allow himself the private fantasy that this thing between them was real, and not just an elaborate make-believe they had gotten caught up in. Barnaby certainly acted the part of a loving partner, but then again they had never actually sat down and had a real conversation about it. Some of that was they never really had the time, but in Kotetsu’s heart of hearts he knew that it was long past the time when they should have talked about where the fiction ended and reality began. 

He’d thought—hoped—that the reason they hadn’t talked about it yet was because Barnaby was as scared as he was of what the other one might say, and because it felt so good and easy and right to just let it happen, to live as the lovers they were pretending to be. But maybe there _was_ no conversation to be had—maybe Kotetsu was the only one who thought things had changed. “Ah,” Kotetsu said belatedly, realizing that maybe some response was required of him, “yes, that… that’ll be a relief.”

If Barnaby noticed Kotetsu’s quietness the rest of the night, he did not comment on it. Perhaps he attributed it to the exhaustion and stress of the day they’d had, or perhaps he was simply that tired himself. He did make an advance on Kotetsu when they crawled into bed together, but didn’t question or comment on it when Kotetsu gently turned him down, begging off on grounds of exhaustion and soreness. Barnaby did roll him over and massage his shoulders and aching back muscles, something that Kotetsu found almost more trying than making love would have been—because he wanted it so badly, and because it was so affecting, to be touched so gently and with such apparent affection. 

Barnaby fell asleep within minutes, nestled in the bow of Kotetsu’s arm and chest, his head pillowed on Kotetsu’s shoulder. Kotetsu lay awake for almost two hours, staring at the ceiling and wondering how on _Earth_ he’d ever thought he could go back to the way things were before. 

It would be like losing Tomoe all over again. But instead, Kotetsu would be asked to work alongside Barnaby, to be his partner but not his lover, and act like it had all been an act—like he hadn’t felt all of these things down to his very core, hadn’t made a home for Barnaby inside of him just when he thought he’d walled his heart off for good.

Kotetsu glanced over at the downy blonde head pillowed against his shoulder. He could smell Barnaby—his sweat, the soft scent of his hair, the faint trace of his own musky skin. Kotetsu’s throat tightened. 

If Barnaby really didn’t want this, Kotetsu could no more force him to stay than he could stop loving Kaede. He wouldn’t ask for it, either, wouldn’t put that kind of strain on Barnaby. Kotetsu would let him leave. And he would never tell Barnaby how he felt. He wouldn’t burden the other man like that. It would be better, that way.

Now to just figure out what he would do once Barnaby left. 

He couldn’t go home again; he’d tried that once already, and been worse than useless at his mother’s house. There was no place for him in Oriental Town now, no meaningful work for him to do. He supposed he’d have to just move into a new apartment, step down from the First League, and focus solely on the Second League, if he was allowed to; at least then he wouldn’t have to see Barnaby every day.

When sleep finally came to him, it was uneasy and full of bad dreams. And if he woke in the middle of the night with his damp face hidden in Barnaby’s hair, Barnaby was kind enough not to notice or say anything.

* * * * *

Even if Kotetsu hadn’t been psyching himself up to have a conversation he was desperately afraid to have, the next three days would still have been exhausting. But in between fielding the newer, worse level of privacy invasion and harassment, the glut of fresh interviews, and their regular Hero work, Kotetsu now also found himself reading into every little thing that passed between him and his partner. And it was hard to tell if he was imagining it or not, but Kotetsu thought that Barnaby also seemed… distracted.

Twice, Kotetsu came into the room Barnaby had been working in and saw Barnaby shutting the laptop quickly, which by itself would have meant nothing except that Barnaby changed the subject both times when Kotetsu asked him what he was working on. And when Kotetsu came out of the shower one evening a week after returning from Oriental Town, he heard Barnaby talking in the next room—it sounded like he was having a conversation with someone, a serious one. But when he ventured into the bedroom to see who it was, Barnaby appeared to just be reading in bed, perusing something on his laptop again. 

“Who was on the phone?” Kotetsu asked. Probably just Agnes, or maybe Nathan, checking up on them.

Barnaby raised an eyebrow at him. “I wasn’t on the phone,” he said mildly. “I was just watching a video.”

“Ah,” said Kotetsu weakly, and disappeared into the closet to either hide or get dressed, he wasn’t sure which. 

It was ironic that the person who’d originally been responsible for this dog-and-pony show, the NEXT that they still hadn’t caught, was now one of the least of Kotetsu’s worries and heartache. Kotetsu thought briefly of the false alarm at the gala and found himself wishing that they _had_ caught Enigma then, if only so that this awful not-knowing could be over with. 

He didn’t know what the hell was going on. Was he just being paranoid because of the new stress? Or had Kotetsu been so stupid and in love with a man he couldn’t have that he had been misreading the signs for weeks now? He didn’t know. But he couldn’t keep doing this. 

Tomorrow, Kotetsu resolved, he would confront Barnaby. Tomorrow.

* * * * *

Tomorrow started early, a page coming before Barnaby and Kotetsu had even properly finished breakfast. The entire First League met at the scene of what turned out to be a bombing on the north side of Sternbild; when they arrived, what was left of the building was still in flames, the rest of its structure threatening to crumble at any moment. 

“Be careful,” said Agnes’s urgent voice in Kotetsu’s ear, as he and the other Heroes ran into the smoke and flames, reckless in their search for survivors. “Saito’s initial data indicates that it was likely one of Enigma’s sonic bombs that did this, and there may be more waiting to be set off.”

“Of course it was,” said Barnaby, voice grim in Kotetsu’s earpiece. Neither of them had really forgotten about Enigma, of course, but Kotetsu had managed to focus on other things for a little while. How stupid of him to think their rogue NEXT would really take a back seat to Kotetsu’s personal drama for long. 

Whatever distance may have sprung up between the ‘engaged’ couple and the other Heroes, they worked as seamlessly together as they ever had. Blue Rose and Sky High used their ice and wind to wall off the flames temporarily or to shore up teetering pieces of building, while Rock Bison, Dragon Kid, and Fire Emblem alternately destroyed or simply lifted debris out of the way. Origami Cyclone stayed with the rescued survivors, distracting them from their fear and pain while they waited for emergency services to make it through the rubble by shifting from one movie character to another. Meanwhile, Tiger and Barnaby tried to be everywhere at once, their Hundred Power used up almost immediately when they arrived and now simply using their own stamina and the augmentation of their Hero suits to continue working. 

Midway through the rescue operation, another ping from Agnes sounded in their ears. “We have Enigma on camera a mile from here, sitting in a cafe watching the news story,” said Agnes into Kotetsu’s ear. “Sky High, Fire Emblem, Blue Rose, leave the others to continue helping the survivors and head to the target.”

“We’re coming too,” Barnaby broke in. He sounded almost as tightly wound as when Maverick had finally shown his true colors.

“No, you stay where you are,” Agnes told them firmly. “Your Hundred Power hasn’t recharged yet, and it’ll do the both of you good for your image to continue to be seen here.”

“I’ve had just about all the attention I need lately,” Kotetsu said grumpily, but Agnes was about as amenable to argument as Kotetsu was to being asked about his daughter, so he let it go; after a moment, Barnaby sulkily followed suit. Kotetsu watched their three friends peel away from the wreckage and jet off away east, and tried not to let anxiety wind him up. 

Kotetsu didn’t know which made him more anxious: the idea of his the others failing to catch Enigma again, or what would happen if they succeeded, and the reason for this whole charade was finally done with. He was still worrying about what he would even say to Barnaby when noise and fire exploded not twenty feet from him, near the base of the half-destroyed building. Kotetsu looked up in time to see three stories of semi-intact apartment building collapsing straight towards him.

Someone screamed his name. At almost the same time, something hit Kotetsu hard in the side, and he was thrown wide of the collapsing building, landing on his arm and side a good twenty feet out. Kotetsu hauled himself up onto his elbows and looked back just in time to see sixteen tons of brick and mortar come crashing down on Barnaby’s pink-and-white suit. 

“NO! BARNABY!”

Everything after that was static.

* * * * *

There were several hours where no one would let him see Barnaby, no one would give him a straight answer as to how he was doing, and no one even seemed willing to look him in the eye. Kotetsu was closer than he’d ever been to using his Hundred Power for something that was the direct opposite of good—that is, picking up one of the hospital beds and pitching it right out the fucking window in order to get someone to just _tell him the truth._

His lover was in surgery. _Bleeding internally… collapsed lung… perforated liver…_ The nurses were not remotely impressed by his Hero status or the fact that he was Barnaby’s intended; they left him in the trauma waiting room holding the remains of Barnaby’s shattered helmet and told him he had to wait. 

So he waited. And waited. And tried not to think about the last time he was in a hospital, waiting to hear news about the person he loved. 

Antonio came to wait with him for awhile, pushing a bottle of tea and a sandwich on him and insisting that Kotetsu eat it. He did, swallowing the food without tasting it and washing it down with the faintly anise-y tasting tea. Karina and Nathan and Keith came also, but after telling him that Enigma had successfully been apprehended, none of them seemed to know what to say. Kotetsu could have told them that their mere presence was enough, the fact that they cared enough to come, but words seemed hard to come by. He hoped that they knew. 

Lloyd and Agnes came by as well, staying only long enough to tell Kotetsu that the only thing he had to worry about was Barnaby, and that no press or news crews were allowed inside the hospital. Kotetsu was thankful for that; he had absolutely no reserves left, and he was sure he would not have been able to restrain himself if someone shoved a microphone in his face and started asking questions.

After awhile his friends went away again—whether out of exhaustion or to deal with the press or for other Hero duties, Kotetsu could not have said—and Kotetsu was alone in the waiting room. He stared at the pile of magazines on the table, wondering vaguely if anyone had ever actually read them. This room was set aside for family and friends of patients in the trauma rooms of the Emergency Department, and Kotetsu could not fathom the idea of being able to focus on literally anything while here. Not until he knew.

“Mr. Kaburagi?”

Kotetsu looked up, scrambling to his feet. A woman in a white lab coat with a stethoscope around her neck and silver-streaked black hair twisted into a severe bun at the nape of her neck was standing in the doorway, a clipboard tucked under one arm. “Yes, that’s me,” he said belatedly. “Is Barnaby—”

“I’m Dr. Uematsu. Your partner is out of surgery,” said the woman. “He’s sustained some serious injuries, and he’s still unconscious, but he’s in stable condition now.”

Kotetsu let out a ragged breath. The knot in his chest that had been winding tighter and tighter over the past few hours loosened, just a hair. “What—” The word came out so hoarse as to be unintelligible. Kotetsu cleared his throat and tried again. “What’s his prognosis?”

Dr. Uematsu smiled, faintly. Kotetsu got the impression it was not an expression that came naturally to her, and instead had to be summoned through sheer force of will. “As I said, his injuries are severe, but he’s healthy and barring something unforeseen, we are optimistic that he will make a full recovery.”

Kotetsu nodded, the movement short and jerky. “Thank you,” he managed, around the enormous lump in his throat. Dr. Uematsu inclined her head, and patiently waited until Kotetsu’s abrupt allergy attack had abated somewhat before she launched into details for him.

What seemed like an eternity later, in Acute Care instead of the ER, Kotetsu was finally left alone at Barnaby’s bedside. For a little while he simply sat in the chair alongside the bed, watching the rise and fall of Barnaby’s chest, listening to the steady rhythmic beeping of the computer monitoring his heart rate and vital signs. 

He knew that Barnaby had gone through this before, their positions reversed, on more than one occasion. As selfish as it was, Kotetsu preferred it that way. He had complete faith in his own ability to recover from injury, but more than that, he could not stand this—the not knowing, the silence, the certainty that he had failed his partner, his beloved. 

“Bunny,” he said softly, and had to stop. He swallowed a few times, and then leaned forward, letting his hand creep under the covers to find Barnaby’s limp one. Kotetsu wrapped his fingers around Barnaby’s, focusing on the warmth still in that hand, on the thready pulse he could feel if he pressed hard enough. 

Kotetsu took a deep breath and tried again. He knew it was sort of pointless to say any of this—Barnaby could no more hear Kotetsu right now than he could fly a plane blindfolded—but Kotetsu needed to say it even if there was no witness to it. “Bunny…”

“You’ve been putting up with all of this for my sake,” he said, unsteady. “This… whole mess. And you let me pretend that I deserve you, that I’m your equal, even when we both know I’m not, and that I must be holding you back. I shouldn’t have let you go to all the trouble, and for that I’m—I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry, Barnaby. I’m just a… a stupid, lonely old man, and I fell for you when I shouldn’t have, and I let you carry my weight when I should have set you free. You make me so happy, you know.” 

“But I can’t let it go on anymore. You nearly died today, and it was because of me. I guess I didn’t realize how much of a burden I’ve been to you until just recently, but I promise I won’t let you take it on any longer.” Kotetsu’s voice broke, and he bent over Barnaby like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Fat tears fell to the soft linen draped over Barnaby’s still form, dampening the cotton. Kotetsu kept talking, holding Barnaby’s limp hand on both of his own now. “When you wake up, I’ll be gone, okay? You can have your apartment back, and—and you don’t have to go on pretending to be in love with a silly old man like me. You can have your life back. I’ll make it easy for you. I promise. I can do that much.”

The day was catching up to him. Kotetsu shut his eyes, rallying his remaining strength. This was goodbye; he had to leave, or he might not manage it before Barnaby woke up from the anesthesia, and Kotetsu didn’t want to put him through this while he was recovering from such awful injuries. He stood up, resting a hand on the railing of Barnaby’s bed, and leaned carefully over the sleeping body of the person he’d come to love more than anyone else in the whole world. 

Kotetsu leaned down, kissing Barnaby’s temple, light as the brush of a feather. “I love you,” he murmured. “I know it isn’t much, but please know that I’m all yours. No matter what happens.” 

He let out a deep breath, looking down at Barnaby’s face. Barnaby’s expression was smooth and serene, no trace of pain or anxiety present in his features right now. Thank God for small mercies, Kotetsu supposed. “Bye, little Bunny,” Kotetsu said softly.

When he got to the doorway, he hesitated for a moment, caught by the impulse to look back, but he mastered himself in time to stop it. So he missed the slight trembling in Barnaby’s chest and arm, the way it seemed to lift from the bed ever so slightly, as if reaching for something, or someone. Then Kotetsu was gone.

* * * * *

Kotetsu went through the next day and a half like a man in a waking dream.

He’d gone through a fugue state something like this before, in the aftermath of Tomoe’s death, when it had been all he could manage to do wash and dress himself, much less string syllables together into words and sentences. Kotetsu told no one of his plan to withdraw from his partnership with Barnaby, partly because he still didn’t know what, exactly, he was going to do. The only thing he _did_ manage to do was get ahold of Agnes and Lloyd and request their help finding a new apartment to live in—he couldn’t go back to his old one now, and he couldn’t stay in Barnaby’s any longer, surrounded by physical evidence of the man he had come to realize he loved just in time to understand that he couldn’t actually have him. 

When Lloyd offered to have a private, discreet moving service handle the bulk of Kotetsu’s furniture, Kotetsu consented; one less thing to worry about. He even said yes to allowing them to pack his things in boxes. All that left was for him to go to Barnaby’s apartment and retrieve his clothes and books and other things that had migrated over there during the long weeks of this charade. Of course, that part would be harder than all the rest combined, but even resigned to the break-up he’d privately committed to, Kotetsu could not compromise Barnaby’s privacy by inviting strangers into his apartment. 

He was aware of the worried eyes of his fellow Heroes on him, especially Antonio and Karina, but to Kotetsu’s eternal gratitude they gave him a wide, respectful berth. Probably they assumed he was just worn out from the ordeal of Barnaby in the hospital, to say nothing of the media shit-show he’d been going through since they had returned from Oriental Town.

Kotetsu toyed with the idea of simply withdrawing from Hero work altogether, going to some new location and getting work as a firefighter or something—then at least he could still help people, and even one minute of Hundred Power was still better than nothing. 

But something held him back. No, not just something; his respect for his partner held him back. It would be cruel and disrespectful of him to simply disappear without so much as an explanation, no matter how much easier it would be for him to just ghost out of the situation. Kotetsu remembered all too vividly how upset Barnaby had been when he’d discovered that Kotetsu was planning to retire and hadn’t yet told Barnaby about it. Just thinking about it made him wince; he didn’t want to do that to Barnaby again, no matter how much it would hurt him to have the conversation where he told Barnaby of his intentions. 

Because Kotetsu was slowly realizing that, simply put, he couldn’t go back to before anymore. Even though the physical reason for this whole charade was now put out of commission—Enigma had been apprehended, and was in the special-security prison for high-ability NEXT individuals—it wasn’t as simple as just announcing that they were no longer engaged. Not after the media blizzard they had been put through in the first place. Kotetsu actually didn’t have any idea how Lloyd and Agnes had ever planned to extract them at all; maybe they hadn’t ever gotten that far. It was sad to say it wouldn’t surprise him to discover that their bosses had never bothered to think about getting their favorite Hero duo out of this scenario once they were put in it. 

But neither did Kotetsu want to ruin his lover—his _partner’s_ reputation, either. Maybe it would be best if they faked Kotetsu’s death, somehow, although Kotetsu didn’t like that idea very much—one lie on top of another hardly seemed a good way to rectify a situation gone badly wrong. But he didn’t have any better ideas, either. 

He promised himself he wouldn’t come up with some harebrained scheme and go through with it without at least talking to Barnaby about the best option first, either. The one thing Kotetsu knew he could not do was go on pretending everything was fine—no matter what Barnaby said about how he didn’t mind, or what Agnes and Lloyd protested about ratings and popularity and what the hell ever. Kotetsu should have known that he couldn’t commit to playing at love, that it wasn’t in his DNA to fake such a deep and earnest emotion. He simply wasn’t built for it. And when asked to make believe the idea that he was in love with the one person in his life whom he could least afford to lose, he of course stepped right off the deep end and let it swallow him whole.

* * * * *

Kotetsu tried his hardest to be organized about collecting his things from Barnaby’s, but—well, it was hard.

For one thing, he kept tearing up. Over especially stupid things, like his toothbrush, or pulling his clothes out of the laundry basket of clean wash that Barnaby had done just the other day, mixing Kotetsu’s clothes in with his own. It was such a stupid, simple gesture, and yet Kotetsu was reduced to sitting on the foot of Barnaby’s huge bed with his face in his hands for a full ten minutes before he could master himself enough to get back to the task of collecting his things.

So it was no surprise that in his haste to get his stuff and get the hell out of dodge, he gathered up a few items that weren’t actually his. He didn’t discover this till the next day when he was unpacking some of the stuff he’d brought over from Barnaby’s. 

The box he was working on was full of odds and ends, the very last box of the six he’d packed up from Barnaby’s place. In with his toothpaste, shaving items, cufflinks and other personal paraphernalia, there was a little green unlabeled thumb-drive that he didn’t even remember grabbing up, but must have made it into the box somehow in his mad rush to finish and get out of the apartment. Kotestu stared at it, frowning slightly.

What the hell was on here? He wasn’t technologically illiterate or anything, though he didn’t use computers as much as Barnaby did. But he _was_ much less organized about his things, which meant that he had no idea whether the stuff on this thumb-drive was important, or whether he could just shove it in a drawer and continue to ignore it. The only thing stopping him from doing so now was the fact that he didn’t remember the last time he’d used a thumb drive for something. Now he wanted to know what was on the damn thing.

Kotetsu scooted the chair across the floor to his own desk, booting up the computer and popping the drive in, waiting for his laptop to see it before selecting the folder that popped up. Right up until the point that the screen opened the folder in front of him, it didn’t even occur to him that the thumb-drive might not be his.

It was a _huge_ file, he saw now—or rather, a huge folder of files, most of them only a minute or two each, but there were a good twenty or twenty-five videos in the folder. They were all labeled with data that Kotetsu couldn’t quite make sense of; the first numbers appeared to be dates (and recent ones at that), but the other letters didn’t make head nor tails to Kotetsu.

A command window popped up, asking Kotetsu what he wanted to do. _Play video_ was the top item in the list, and against the warning of a little voice in the back of his head, Kotetsu clicked on just that. 

The video-player popped up, and Barnaby’s face appeared, leaning forward into the camera and frowning at it, the little crease between his eyebrows that Kotetsu knew so well (and had kissed several times over the past few weeks). _Oh, shit,_ Kotetsu thought. But it was too late.

“This is practice session number one,” Barnaby said into the camera. Kotetsu couldn’t help but smile, despite the sense of violation he was struggling with—Barnaby was always so _serious_ , doing nothing by halves. 

Then Barnaby took a deep breath, and the next words out of his mouth banished Kotetsu’s momentary amusement. “Kotetsu, I need to talk to you. I want—I want you to know that—that the feelings I have for you are not just—” Barnaby broke off, scowling, raising a hand to rub at his face before standing up and starting to pace back and forth. “Ah, dammit, old man, why are you so hard to talk to? This should be easy, but I know you’ll just blow me off….” 

The video broke off there, a new image replacing it: the same scenario but on a different day, judging from the new outfit Barnaby was wearing. Again, Barnaby’s earnest expression frowning up close in the video as he started the recording with _This is practice session number two._ Barnaby cleared his throat and stood in the center of the room, clasping his hands in front of him like a student preparing to give an oral report. “Kotetsu, there’s something I need to tell you. I want to marry you—for real, not just something to tell the media.” Barnaby’s frown deepened into a furious scowl, and he broke off, lunging for the camera. “Stupid! That’s stupid. I’m erasing this one—”

But he hadn’t, obviously. And Kotetsu even knew why: when he was working on something, whether analyzing a new criminal or focusing all of his considerable attention and drive on a problem, Barnaby never threw anything out. He never deleted any piece of data, any scrap of information, or possible scenario from his mental database of outcomes. Kotetsu knew what he was watching by the time the third video had rolled—knew what he’d caught Barnaby at on his laptop this past week.

Barnaby had recorded every single practice session of himself confessing his feelings for Kotetsu. He had no doubt watched the recordings multiple times, when Kotetsu was asleep, or in the shower, or busy elsewhere (and that was a miracle in and of itself, since Kotetsu had all but lived in Barnaby’s lap for much of the past few weeks, something that Kotetsu now saw was as much Barnaby’s design as his own longing). And now all Kotetsu could do was stare, helplessly crushed under the twin realizations that the thing he most wanted had been reality all along—but that he might have discovered it just in time to ruin it. 

Kotetsu knew that he shouldn’t have kept watching the videos, but it was like a train wreck; he couldn’t look away. All he could do was watch, sitting frozen in place like he’d been hit with Karina’s ice, tears rolling unheeded down his cheeks as his serious, meticulous lover stumbled and stammered and choked out variations on the same words over and over again. Barnaby, who was always so put-together and careful, was here barely capable of stringing words together—a sight so wondrous Kotetsu actually had to watch several of the clips through the hands covering his eyes, peering wretchedly through his fingers as he wetted his own palms with his tears. 

_Kotetsu, please don’t leave me again, I can’t stand it. You should stay with me and be with me for real! No, what the hell, I don’t want to tell you what to do—_

Some of the videos were stupid, some silly, some genuinely sweet. Kotetsu all but sobbed his way through the one where Barnaby confessed how lonely he was the year Kotetsu was in Oriental Town, and how stupid he was to not realize how deeply in love he’d fallen with Kotetsu until Kotetsu had gone off and left him. _I’ve been in love with you for so long,_ Barnaby told the camera, sitting slumped in a chair as he tried yet another time to get his confession right (practice session number twelve). _I’ve been so selfish for letting this charade happen, but I wanted to be with you so badly that I just couldn’t help myself. I thought, even getting to pretend to be your partner would be better than nothing, but now I know how stupid it was to think I could go back to just being your friend._

Kotetsu couldn’t believe it. Every word was like a blow straight to the heart. He was reminded of when Barnaby had been made to forget him, when every blow had hurt much worse than the physical force behind it. 

At one point Barnaby broke off, slumping into his chair with a groan and rubbing his hands over his face. _Old man, if you knew how much I **really** want to do to you, you’d probably run screaming, wouldn’t you?_ He smiled, a wry, self-deprecating smile that made Kotetsu want to reach out through the computer screen to grab his lover’s face and kiss him senseless. 

Another video wasn’t even a practice video—not really, anyway. It started that way, with Barnaby attempting to lead into what was no doubt meant to be a serious conversation, but again Barnaby broke off, scowling at the camera (really at himself) before segueing into a long ramble that was directed at Kotetsu but clearly never meant for him to hear. _You drove me absolutely crazy today_ , Barnaby said. _You’re so embarrassed about wearing those teacher glasses, but you look so attractive in them I just want to rip your clothes off. But your hair has gotten too long and now you wear it pulled back all the time and everyone else has noticed how handsome you are and I don’t know whether to be mad that everyone is looking at you or smug because you’re mine. But you aren’t really mine, are you? Are you going to get tired of all of this harassment, and retire somewhere quiet again, and leave me all alone? I really don’t know what I’d do if you did that. I don’t want to be a Hero if you aren’t here with me. I can’t do it without you._

Finally, the videos ended, but Kotetsu was too wrecked to do anything but lay slumped on his couch, overcome with what he’d discovered. He felt like he’d violated something very private, but more than that he was trying desperately to figure out what he should do now. 

Was it too late to go back to Barnaby and make things right? Was Barnaby even out of the hospital? Surely, he’d be hurt to wake up and find Kotetsu had moved out while he’d been unconscious, but not even Kotetsu’s misplaced sense of duty was strong enough to negate the desire to be with the man he loved—especially after discovering that Barnaby loved him back.

A sharp knock at the door made him gasp, breaking him out of his emotion-soaked reverie. Kotetsu sat up quickly, staring towards the front door, wondering dazedly if one of the movers had come by with something they’d missed. “Kotetsu? Kotetsu, are you home? Answer me!”

It was Barnaby.

Kotetsu scrambled unsteadily to his feet, nearly wiping out altogether from getting up too fast as he hurried to answer the door. “I’m coming!” he called, swallowing to try to get the lump out of his throat and meeting with only moderate success. He fumbled back the deadbolt and the chain-lock before pulling the door open.

“Kotetsu!” Barnaby pushed his way into the apartment, startling Kotetsu with the force of his entrance. He pushed the door shut again, locking it and then pressing his back to it before turning back to look at Kotetsu, his expression wild. 

“Barnaby, what—”

“We didn’t catch Enigma,” Barnaby cut in. “He broke into the hospital and nearly killed me.”

“He WHAT?” Kotetsu felt like a man in a car accident that had just been thrown free of the moving vehicle and didn’t know yet whether he had a snapped spine or just a bad headache; he was having trouble following the turn of events. 

“He’s a shape-shifter, Kotetsu,” Barnaby said hurriedly. “That’s why we haven’t been able to catch him before now, or see what he really looks like—he can change his shape, like Origami. He snuck in pretending to be a nurse, and if I hadn’t already been getting ready to discharge he would have killed me.”

“How are you even mobile yet?” Kotetsu cried. He had grabbed Barnaby’s arms without even thinking about it, the idea of his beloved coming so close to being killed doing awful things to him. He only just now registered the bandages peeking out from under Barnaby’s shirt, covering his upper chest and shoulder. Then something occurred to him, and he frowned. “Why are you here instead of at Hero headquarters?! We need the other Heroes—”

“I had to find you first,” said Barnaby, softer. He pulled Kotetsu against him, wrapping his arms around Kotetsu’s waist and bumping their foreheads together. “I had to know you were safe. He told me what he’s after, finally.” 

“I thought he just wanted us to tell everyone that we’re a couple,” Kotetsu tried, still fighting that lingering whiplash sensation. 

Barnaby didn’t answer immediately, too busy staring into Kotetsu’s eyes, his gaze flickering over Kotetsu’s face. Kotetsu knew what he was seeing: Kotetsu’s tear-stained cheeks, his puffy eyes and red nose. “You’ve been crying,” Barnaby said slowly. “Kotetsu…?”

Abruptly, Kotetsu realized that Barnaby might not even know that Kotetsu had moved his stuff out of Barnaby’s apartment yet. “You were in surgery for eight hours, so don’t give me a hard time about looking rough,” Kotetsu said unevenly. “What are you not telling me? How did you even know where I was? I only signed the lease on this place yesterday—”

“Agnes told me,” Barnaby said. “I told you, he’s coming here, Kotetsu! It’s you that he wants!”

“What?” Kotetsu stared at Barnaby uncomprehendingly. “But you said—”

“He was planning to kill me and then take my place,” Barnaby said. He lifted a hand, cupping Kotetsu’s face and brushing his thumb against Kotetsu’s cheekbone, his touch very tender. “But he underestimated how much I would do to protect you.”

Kotetsu couldn’t speak. He had no idea what to say, appalled and almost numb at the horror of the idea. Barnaby seemed to understand what he was going through, or at least guess at it, because instead of pressing for an answer, he merely leaned in and kissed Kotetsu softly on the mouth, his other arm still wrapped around Kotetsu’s shoulders. Kotetsu made a choked-off noise into Barnaby’s mouth, fresh tears starting to slide down his cheeks. Barnaby responded by pulling him closer, tucking him securely against Barnaby’s chest even as Kotetsu wrapped his arms tight around Barnaby’s waist, clinging to him as though to ward off the many different ways Kotetsu had come perilously close to losing him. 

“It’s okay,” Barnaby murmured into his ear, stroking his back. “I’m here. I would never let anyone hurt you, Kotetsu.” 

Kotetsu took a deep, shuddering breath, pulling himself together somewhat through a monumental act of will. “We have to call the other Heroes,” he said thickly, pulling back from Barnaby and setting his expression into one he hoped resembled something sterner than the wet blanket he currently felt like. “We have to get you to safety and tell them what’s going on—”

“Alright, alright,” Barnaby said, which was a little less urgent than Kotetsu would have expected, all things considered, but Kotetsu was so overwhelmed that he was willing to forgive a little bit of weirdness.

They had made it halfway down the hall to the kitchen when another sharp knock came at the door and a voice called through from the other side. “Kotetsu?”

It was Barnaby’s voice.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the enemy is finally dealt with, and a long-overdue discussion is finally had. (Note: EXTREMELY NSFW!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day or two late, sorry for the delay - was traveling for the holidays! Please enjoy this chapter that is like 75% porn.

Kotetsu froze. He looked up at the Barnaby beside him, whose expression had suddenly gone very tense and wary. “We have to attack him now,” Barnaby hissed, his hands tight on Kotetsu’s hips as he stared back down the hallway at the front door. “Quickly! Before he knows I’m here!”

It hurt to admit, but for a few moments, Kotetsu was sorely tempted. But he couldn’t abandon all of his long-held principles just because the threat had gotten personal this time. After all, it was always personal for _someone_ ; this time it just happened to be him. “Stay here,” he said instead, pushing Barnaby gently against the wall. “Keep quiet—”

The knocking came again, Barnaby’s voice louder and more agitated. “Kotetsu, I know you’re home! Answer me! Please, it’s important!”

“I’m coming!” Kotetsu called, trying to not sound as anxious as he suddenly felt, and pressed a single finger to Barnaby’s mouth to keep him quiet. Barnaby merely frowned at him, his eyebrows furrowed and his face tense. 

Kotetsu hurried back down the hall, taking a deep breath before he reached for the sliding lock and deadbolt once more. He opened the door to see someone that looked exactly like his Barnaby, right down to the storm-cloud glower Barnaby wore sometimes, his face slightly flushed as though he’d been running. “Thank God,” the man in the hallway breathed, and started to push his way into the apartment. 

“Hold on,” Kotetsu said, planting his arm in the doorframe like a barrier. “What are you doing here?”

The Barnaby look-alike (the NEXT, Kotetsu reminded himself) looked at him uncomprehendingly, maybe a little annoyed. “Are you really asking me that? Can we not have this conversation in the hallway?”

“I’m mad at you,” Kotetsu blurted, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

The Barnaby in the hallway stared at him. “What? Kotetsu, wh— _you’re_ mad at _me_?” Kotetsu flushed; the note of outrage in Barnaby’s voice was a perfect impression, right down to the way it cramped up Kotetsu’s insides with anxiety and distress. “You’re the one who moved out of my apartment while I was in the hospital! For an injury I got _protecting you_! You didn’t even leave me a note! And you’re mad at _me_?”

“I, I—” Kotetsu could feel himself slipping, the all-too-recent tears welling up again. He dragged in a ragged breath, swiping his other hand angrily at his face. Barnaby (the NEXT, god dammit!) was staring at him, anger and concern mixing on his handsome face, and before Kotetsu could stop him he’d reached out, wiping a stray tear away from Kotetsu’s cheek with his thumb. 

“Please let me in, old man,” Barnaby said, very quietly. “Don’t shut me out again.”

Something was wrong. This man in the hallway felt too real, too right—but then was the Barnaby already inside his apartment real as well? Which one of them was the fake? Kotetsu didn’t know who was who, didn’t know which end was up, whether he was coming or going. Without thinking, Kotetsu fell away from the door, pulling his arm back, and the Barnaby in the hallway took it as a sign of consent and walked past Kotetsu into the apartment. All Kotetsu could do was follow.

Barnaby got three steps into the apartment and stopped short. When he spoke, his voice was a horrible monotone, staring at the copy of himself standing in the middle of the hall at the other end. “Kotetsu? …What’s going on?”

“Why did you let him in?” demanded the first Barnaby, the one with his arm and shoulder in bandages. “Come here, Kotetsu!”

Kotetsu edged away from the man he’d just let in the door, staring from Barnaby to Barnaby with a horrible tightness in his chest. He wanted to make sure there was plenty of distance between him and both of the Barnabys. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t call the rest of the Heroes here to lock both of you up till we figure out who is who,” he said harshly. 

“If you can’t tell that fake NEXT from the real me, you’re a lot stupider than I thought you were,” said the first Barnaby. 

“If you call the others here the NEXT is just going to transform into someone else and get away in the confusion,” said the Barnaby who’d just come in the door. Either he was the real Barnaby and he’d quickly figured out why there was a seeming doppelganger of himself in Kotetsu’s new apartment… or he was the fake Barnaby and he was doing everything in his power to keep reinforcements from arriving. 

Either way, he had a point. Kotetsu cursed inwardly, hugging his own arms across his chest in anxiety. “Okay, okay,” he said, and took a deep breath. “Uh…”

“If you’re the real Barnaby, where are your bandages?” demanded the bandaged Barnaby, the one Kotetsu had let in first. “I have the Hundred Power, not instant healing. I had a building dropped on me less than three days ago.”

The Barnaby Kotetsu had just let in scowled. “They wouldn’t let me out of the hospital until I proved I was completely healed, so I did what you did when you fought Jake,” he said to Kotetsu. “I used the Hundred Power to heal faster, whenever I was awake enough to do it. Apparently someone flagged my file with a note to not allow me early release. Something about not wanting to let me rush out the door and re-injure myself.” He looked steadily over at Kotetsu, shockingly calm for someone who was either impersonating the real Barnaby or in danger of losing his lover to a fake. “I assumed it was you.”

“How did you find my new apartment?” Kotetsu demanded, flushing. 

“I already told you, Agnes told me the address,” said the first Barnaby, impatient.

The second Barnaby inclined his head. “When I went home and found you and your things gone, I assumed you had either returned to Oriental Town or found a new place. Lloyd said he and Agnes had arranged to help you find somewhere new.”

Dammit. Kotetsu cast about for something else to ask, only to think of the most obvious one in the world and feel like an idiot for not asking it first. “The real Barnaby should use his Hundred Power to prove who he is,” he said, triumphant.

His sense of victory lasted only moments. Both Barnabys frowned at him; it was eerie having that expression leveled at him twice. “I just told you that I have had to use my ability to heal myself repeatedly today,” the second, bandage-less Barnaby said. “I can’t use it again for another fifteen minutes.” 

“You tried to kill me at the hospital,” said the first Barnaby, a flash of real anger in his voice. “I used the Hundred Power to get away from you and get over here as quickly as I could.”

Dammit. “So much for only using our Hundred Power for Hero work, Bunny,” said Kotetsu, disgruntled.

Both Barnabys looked at him. One of them raised an eyebrow at him. “This _is_ Hero work,” said the unbandaged Barnaby. “And you’re an exception.”

“You don’t have any right to talk to him like that,” said the bandaged Barnaby, that low-boil anger showing through again. “Why are you doing this to us? Haven’t you meddled in our lives enough?”

“I’m really impressed in how far you’ve gone to achieve your goals,” said the unbandaged Barnaby, still eerily calm, especially in contrast to the other man. Kotetsu was forcefully reminded of how very _not_ calm he was when confronted by his own robotic double. “It’s lucky for you that I came here when I did. If I found out you’d put hands on my fiance I would probably break my own code and snap your neck. But you have to know this won’t work. Kotetsu and I know each other too well.”

“Says the stalker who released Kotetsu’s address and identity to the public,” said the first Barnaby darkly. Kotetsu was too busy feeling his stomach turn over at the thought of possibly kissing (or more) a NEXT masquerading as Barnaby to be able to follow the back-and-forth very well. This conversation would probably be telling if he had been properly on his game, but he was rapidly developing the specific, thunderous headache he’d only had a handful of times in his life that always followed a really harsh cry. It was becoming hard to think very well.

Even so, he was starting to think that the second Barnaby, the unbandaged one, was the real one. But he had to be _sure_. Barnaby’s life—and maybe his own—depended on it.

“So that _was_ you,” the second Barnaby was saying. “Why would you do that? If you’re really as big of a fan as you say you are, you have to know how much stress and anxiety this has been causing Kotetsu.”

“I’m still right here,” Kotetsu said loudly. Both Barnabys turned towards him. “I’m not just a prize to be won, you know. Stop treating me like some damsel in distress!”

“Of course you’re not a damsel in distress,” said the first Barnaby. “You’re Wild Tiger!”

“You’re my partner,” said the second Barnaby, sounding sort of surprised and maybe kind of offended. “It’s my job to have your back.”

This was getting nowhere fast, Kotetsu realized with a stab of dismay. The NEXT was clearly the kind of intense super-fan who knew every scrap of trivia and detail that had ever been released or leaked to the public, ever. (Kotetsu would never be okay with that level of insanity in celebrity-worship again, he suspected.) “This is stupid,” he said out loud. Both Barnabys were holding their place, their eyes on him, one face wary but calm, the other angry and tight. “Bunny, if I’m getting married to you, then you should be able to show me who you are. Tell me something that only you would know.”

“I used to hate that nickname,” said the first Barnaby, his eyes glued to Kotetsu. “Until you used it to remind me of who I really am, and what our partnership means to me. You called me by that nickname to remind me of who you were when Maverick had wiped my memories.”

Kotetsu hesitated, giving the first Barnaby—the one who had kissed him—a long look. They’d never talked about that to the public (Barnaby and Lloyd and Agnes had all thought it too undignified a nickname to be common public knowledge) but he was fairly certain some of their fans knew about the nickname anyway. He didn’t know if that particular nugget of information was out there as well, though. 

But then the second Barnaby, the unbandaged one, stirred, and said, very softly, “You’re a stupid old man who thinks he has to get out of the way to give me what I want. But you said that you’re all mine, no matter what happens, and that’s all that I really want.”

Kotetsu felt the blood drain from his face. He stared at Barnaby—whom he now _knew_ was the real Barnaby—wanting to shrivel up and die from shock and embarrassment. “What kind of garbage is that?” said the fake Barnaby loudly, seemingly oblivious to the earthquake of emotions Kotetsu was suffering through at the moment. “How can you expect anyone to—”

“You heard that?” Kotetsu’s voice was barely a croak. Barnaby nodded, very slightly. Kotetsu swallowed, having to work to get it past the lump in his throat, and then said, forcefully, “You _jerk_. You always do this to me!”

Barnaby’s mouth dropped open, his eyes going wide. Kotetsu moved, planting himself between Barnaby and his doppelganger, and then—now that only Barnaby could see his face—mouthed _trust me_. Barnaby’s expression changed, a flicker of something that Kotetsu desperately hoped was comprehension passing over his features before settling firmly into irritation. 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me, again,” said Kotetsu, warming to his role. 

“Oh, not this again,” Barnaby exclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now? We’re doing this now?”

“You had to jump in front of trouble for me, like you don’t think I can do my job!” Kotetsu shot back. He had started to rotate now, the two of them circling each other like boxers in a ring, Kotetsu’s fists bunched at his sides. “I’ve been a Hero since before your voice changed, you little shit, and you still treat me like I’m a rookie who’ll die the minute you take my eyes off me!”

“What’s—what’s going on?” asked the doppelganger, sounding bewildered. “What are you doing, Kotetsu?”

“I know who the real Barnaby is,” said Kotetsu flatly. “This asshole in front of me. Now I know who to be mad at.”

“What—”

“You are _unbelievable_ ,” Barnaby all but snarled. “I do literally everything for you, and this is how you act?”

“I never asked you to infantilize me!” 

“Well maybe if you accepted the fact that your so-called one-minute Hero power is a _joke_ and that it’s past time for you to retire I wouldn’t have to!”

Kotetsu’s face burned. “Big words from a little bunny,” he said through gritted teeth. “Remind me, which of us let his parents’ murderer lead him around by the nose for years?”

Kotetsu felt something in the air shift then. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the by-now-familiar grey cloud that meant the NEXT in the room had just shape-shifted. He didn’t dare take his eyes off Barnaby, though; this depended on their enemy believing that their attention was totally taken up by each other. They had to catch him completely by surprise, or he might use his sonic booms to kill both of them—or at the very least, get away again. And Barnaby had no Hundred Power at his disposal for at least another three minutes. Kotetsu had his, but in such close quarters he might kill somebody; fighting inside apartment buildings was a dangerous proposition at the best of times.

Barnaby’s face had blossomed red, his eyes suspiciously bright even as he glared at Kotetsu, looking absolutely pissed. “At least I can still fight crime without having to resort to tired gimmicks and leaning on the shoulders of every Hero I work with,” he hissed. “I can’t believe I let you and Agnes rope me into this charade. I’m glad you moved out.”

“I should’ve done it sooner,” said Kotetsu, through a mouth that didn’t want to work. “Saved myself a headache.” He was almost level with Barnaby now, having rotated so far that Kotetsu could see their opponent over Barnaby’s shoulder. Enigma’s face was utterly unfamiliar—perhaps his own for the very first time, round-faced and bland with eyes that didn’t sit right in his head. He was wearing an expression of mingled confusion and disbelief. Kotetsu kept his eyes firmly on Barnaby’s, not wanting to betray even an iota of his attention as he and Barnaby continued to circle each other. 

“We should never have gotten engaged,” said Barnaby icily. He took a step forward right into Kotetsu’s face, close enough for Kotetsu to see the sudden tell-tale light in his eyes; Kotetsu moved half a step sideways, faking a stumble to hide where he was putting his feet. 

“You’re right,” Kotetsu shot back. “In fact, let’s not be.” He gave Barnaby a little shove, and Barnaby staggered backwards, his face contorting with poorly-hidden fury. 

“By all means,” Barnaby snapped, and dove at him.

Time slowed down. 

Kotetsu let out a yell, throwing himself backwards as Barnaby lunged at him, bracing on his back foot in the Judo position he’d been careful to set up. At the same time, Kotetsu threw open the floodgate inside him that activated his Hundred Power. He caught Barnaby’s arms in his hands and pivoted in place, hurling Barnaby behind him right at the NEXT staring slack-jawed at the tableau they’d presented him. Barnaby flew over him like a Bolshoi ballerina, all power and grace, flipping in mid-air and landing his booted heel right in Enigma’s face. 

Enigma went down like a sack of bricks. Kotetsu jumped to his feet and darted around the back of the couch, but Barnaby had already picked up their rogue NEXT with both hands, his face burning with fury. “Barnaby!” Kotetsu cried, too late. With a hoarse yell, Barnaby turned and threw Enigma through the wall of Kotetsu’s apartment—the outer wall, as it happened. He hung in space for a few moments with the shattered plaster and debris from the broken wall, and then dropped out of sight.

Kotetsu groaned. Beside him, Barnaby slowly straightened, taking in a deep breath. “Sorry,” Barnaby said after a moment, sounding not the least bit contrite.

“Let’s just make sure he stays down this time,” said Kotetsu. He and Barnaby shared a long look, a mess of tension and unanswered questions hanging between them. And then Kotetsu grabbed Barnaby’s hand, yanking him in close and kissing him hard. Barnaby staggered, overbalancing, and then Kotetsu found himself being dipped like a girl at her first dance, Barnaby’s arm tight under his lower back as he leaned Kotetsu back and kissed him within an inch of his life. It was several seconds before Barnaby pulled Kotetsu upright, his hands still lingering possessively at Kotetsu’s hips.

“Stay at my apartment tonight,” Barnaby breathed into his mouth. 

“Well you just broke my brand-new apartment, so it’s either that or a hotel,” said Kotetsu, because his brain was nothing but liquefied goo and all that remained was his impulse to crack wise. Barnaby gave him a dirty look. “Come on, let’s go scrape that asshole up off the pavement so we can get this over with!”

“Alright,” said Barnaby, “but you’re not going anywhere afterwards until we’ve had a chance to talk.”

To this Kotetsu could do naught but agree.

* * * * *

All things considered, Kotetsu really thought the rest of the day should have gone more smoothly than it did.

Collecting Enigma turned out to be the easy part. He wasn’t dead, but he _was_ out cold, and thus proved no trial for the special forces NEXT containment police to bring in. The follow-up explaining and paperwork issues turned out to be the hard part. 

Now that they had the mastermind in hand, Enigma’s accomplices that had already been captured were much quicker to share details, hoping to secure some remaining leniency in sentencing. Information was still coming in, but sitting in the debriefing room with the other Heroes, Kotetsu’s hand clasped firmly in Barnaby’s as Agnes and Lloyd gave them the break-down on the situation, Kotetsu was stunned by exactly how deranged their opponent had turned out to be. 

Enigma had had not one but three moles in Apollon Media, one of whom had been quietly copying and diverting a lot of Kotetsu and Barnaby’s personal data to him. That was how he’d found out about Kotetsu’s more private information; that was also how he’d been aware of Barnaby’s status in the hospital. The bombing that had nearly killed Barnaby had apparently been targeting some of Kotetsu’s more vocal detractors, which Kotetsu honestly found _more_ upsetting than being a target of harassment and violence himself. He thought some members of the public were far out of line, sure, but being murdered for it _on Kotetsu’s behalf_? He’d never in a million years want such a thing. That fact was particularly ironic, considering the number of hostile letters Enigma himself had sent to Barnaby and Kotetsu during his reign of terror. 

He really had broken into the hospital to try to kill Barnaby—one of the nurses was found unconscious in the supply room, robbed of his scrubs and badge and left in nothing but his underclothes. The hospital’s prohibitive security measures had foiled Enigma’s plans to sneak in and presumably kill Barnaby while still recovering in his room. The “Hero Ward,” where celebrities and other high-security individuals were taken after recovery, was actually a locked unit that required a passcode combined with retinal scan to enter. Enigma could _probably_ have found a way in, if he’d tried hard enough and had enough time, but he’d apparently had other priorities.

Halfway through the debriefing (complete with associated paperwork), Kotetsu got a phone call from the leasing company of his new apartment complex. By some combination of oversight and idiocy, they had somehow missed the fact that their new, well-paying tenant was a Hero and a NEXT, and after seeing the property damage from the fight that afternoon, they were not pleased. Kotetsu ended up passing the phone to Agnes once the agent on the line started babbling about breach of contract and liability damages, and sunk resignedly back into the pile of aftermath-related paperwork. 

Neither Kotetsu nor Barnaby was done with meetings and paperwork and interviews until well past nine pm, by which point both of them were utterly exhausted. Kotetsu stuck around after Barnaby left to submit himself to another round of doctors and nurses fussing over him, to deal with the details of whether or not he’d be staying in his new apartment. Afterwards, he submitted to being driven back to Barnaby’s apartment by a chauffeur instead of driving himself like he normally would. He trudged up the steps to Barnaby’s apartment feeling like he’d been soaked and then wrung out to dry by a particularly vicious spin-cycle. 

The light was on. “Barnaby?” Kotetsu called, tiredly. There was no answer. Maybe the other man wasn’t home yet. Kotetsu dropped his bag on the low table in the front hall, toeing off his shoes with a low groan and shuffling towards the rear of the apartment. 

He found Barnaby on the couch, upright but asleep, his head tipped forward so that his chin touched his chest. He was snoring softly. Despite the long day weighing on him, Kotetsu couldn’t help but smile. He crossed the room, flicking on the light on the coffee table and settling onto the couch beside Barnaby. “Wake up, Bunny…”

Barnaby stirred as the couch dipped from Kotetsu’s added weight. He lifted his head, blinking blearily at Kotetsu through his glasses. “Oh… there you are.”

“I thought you were going to get kept overnight,” Kotetsu told him. He kept his voice light, but even through the weight of exhaustion, his lingering anxiety was starting to make itself known. There was a conversation they hadn’t yet had, that needed to happen—but he was so fucking tired. 

“They wanted to,” murmured Barnaby. “But I insisted on going home.”

“Afraid I would get another attack of self-loathing and disappear without you here?” Kotetsu had meant it as a joke, but when Barnaby sat up straighter and fixed him with a long look, he realized he’d hit a little too close to the mark. He flushed, fighting the urge to drop his gaze.

But “Something like that,” was all Barnaby said. He scooted closer, reaching out and taking one of Kotetsu’s hands in his own, delicately twining their fingers together. 

Kotetsu swallowed, suddenly finding the lump in his throat had thickened, his eyes wet again. “Barnaby, I…” He hesitated, groaning. His head hurt. “Crap, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Why did you move out?” Barnaby’s voice was gentle, but despite the fact he’d just woken up, there was nothing inarticulate or hazy about the question. “Was it something that I did?”

Kotetsu let out his breath in a rush. “No,” he said. “Well, not exactly. You—a few nights before we got the call to go fight Enigma, you said that you couldn’t wait for this all to be over so maybe things would go back to normal. And then I noticed you were hiding something you were doing on your computer. And for some reason I thought it all meant that—that you were tired of this. That you were tired of pretending, because it was just an act for you, and you wanted your old life back.”

Barnaby’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly, something like comprehension dawning. “That isn’t what I meant at all,” he said, with a touch of exasperation. “And the computer thing was—”

“I know. Well, I know now,” Kotetsu said. He could feel his face turning red again, but he pushed forward anyway. “I, uh. I found your thumb-drive with all the practice videos on it.”

Beside him, Barnaby froze. “You… you found—oh.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Kotetsu said hastily. “I think I must have just—crammed it in one of the boxes with my stuff when I was moving out. I wasn’t exactly in the clearest state of mind.”

At this, Barnaby managed to smile a little. But to Kotetsu’s surprise, he didn’t seem as concerned as Kotetsu might have thought he’d be. In fact, Kotetsu would almost have said he seemed relieved. “I never did figure out the right way to tell you,” he remarked. 

“Neither did I,” said Kotetsu. Barnaby leaned in closer, and Kotetsu turned his face instinctively, greeting him with a soft kiss, their hands still twined together. After another moment, he pulled away, feeling fresh embarrassment wash over him as he remembered the telling moment that had given away which Barnaby was real earlier that day. “Did you really hear everything I said to you at the hospital?”

“Most of it,” said Barnaby. “The relevant parts.” 

Kotetsu opened his mouth to respond, but interrupted himself with a huge yawn, so large it made his eyes water and his ears ring. Barnaby laughed, snaking an arm around Kotetsu’s ribs and pulling him into Barnaby’s lap, hugging him tightly. “Let’s pause there,” Barnaby murmured against Kotetsu’s neck. “It’s been a long day.”

“Okay,” said Kotetsu wearily. He shut his eyes, nuzzling Barnaby’s temple, arms wrapped loosely around Barnaby’s shoulders: all things he’d done several times prior to today, but always before he’d had to shut a section of his mind down, avoid thinking about the implications. It felt so good to just accept that he _could_ do this now, for real. “Wait…”

“Mm?” Barnaby’s fingers stroked down Kotetsu’s spine, distractingly soothing.

Kotetsu took a deep breath. “I love you,” he said, unsteadily.

Barnaby’s hand stilled. He pulled back, gazing up at Kotetsu through the messy fall of his fringe. “And I love you, Kotetsu,” he said. Kotetsu thought he’d never seen Barnaby look so serious about anything in his life. Kotetsu swallowed thickly, finding himself without anything to say, and settled for leaning down and kissing Barnaby again by way of answer. 

There was a lot more to be said, but nothing half as urgent as that. Barnaby kissed away the stray tears leaking down Kotetsu’s face, and then the two of them went to bed, wrung out by the long day they’d both had. Kotetsu was asleep less than a minute after he lay down in bed, Barnaby curled against him and around him.

* * * * *

Kotetsu slept like the dead. If he dreamed, he did not remember it.

He woke just once, to find the bed next to him empty, at perhaps two am. Kotetsu sat up, disoriented and a little bereft; he could see light coming from underneath the bedroom door, which was shut. He must have made a noise, because moments later the door opened, illuminating Barnaby’s silhouette for a few seconds before it went out and he could hear Barnaby padding across the room to him. “I’m here,” Barnaby murmured, crawling into bed next to him again. “Go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” said Kotetsu groggily, and rolled over, making room for Barnaby to curl up against his back. Kotetsu noticed that Barnaby’s hair was damp, and he could smell shampoo, but that was his last thought before dropping off into sleep again with Barnaby’s arm lashed securely around his waist. 

The next time he woke up, it was morning, although just barely. Kotetsu kept his eyes shut, not particularly wanting to drag himself out of bed yet, but the growing need to pee was going to force his hand in the next few minutes. If he squinted, he could make out the clock on the bedside table; it was just past seven am.

They had today off, Kotetsu thought vaguely. Agnes had offered, Lloyd had insisted, and he and Barnaby had not even bothered pretending they wanted to argue. _Go home and make up,_ Lloyd had said, which was odd, considering that Kotetsu hadn’t actually told anyone what was really going on. Either way, they could sleep in. 

…Except that he really, really had to pee. Damn. Kotetsu wrinkled his nose, then reluctantly sat up, doing his best to move gingerly so as not to jar Barnaby awake. His lover had to be even more tired than he was, Kotetsu thought amidst a flood of affection and protectiveness. Hundred Power healing or not, Barnaby was still recovering from some very severe injuries, and yesterday had been a long one by anyone’s standards. Kotetsu edged out from under the covers and padded to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him before he turned on the light. 

He did his business and was washing his hands when he remembered that he’d woken in the night to a Barnaby with damp hair. Had the other man actually decided to shower at two in the fucking morning? …When had he showered before that? Shit, when had _Kotetsu_ showered last?

Yesterday morning. Wait, no: the night before last. He hadn’t showered at all yesterday, since he’d expected to do nothing but move, and had figured that showering at the end of a long day made the most sense. Kotetsu made a face as he realized exactly how much grime and god knew what else was on his skin, and before he’d given it anymore thought he’d moved to the shower stall and had turned on the water, absently stripping out of his sleep clothes.

He spent perhaps five minutes in the shower, total, and he did not even bother to shave—he was more interested in getting clean and climbing back into bed with his boyfriend (fiance? Kotetsu wondered, and permitted himself a good thirty seconds of unmanly giggling in the shower as he thought about it). He dried himself and snuck stealthily back into the bedroom, naked as a jaybird, circling around to his side of the bed and climbing back in. Barnaby had not stirred—was still snoring very lightly, as a matter of fact—and Kotetsu smiled as he settled back in, feeling warm and content and considerably cleaner. 

He was actually starting to get dozey again when he felt a hand curl around his hip-bone and Barnaby’s lips kissing up the back of his neck. “You smell good,” Barnaby whispered. Kotetsu shivered at the smoky heat in his voice. “Why can’t I always wake up to find you naked in my bed?”

“You can, if you want,” Kotetsu said, because it was still early, and because even with a shower he wasn’t awake enough to stop himself from saying the first, truest thing to come into his mind. 

Barnaby sucked in a breath. “I’d never get any work done again,” he murmured. Kotetsu shut his eyes as he suddenly had Barnaby’s warmth pressed flush against his backside, hot like the scalding hot shower he’d just taken. The erection Kotetsu had woken up with that had softened somewhat during his morning ablutions now came back in full force—but this time Kotetsu had no intention of pretending otherwise. 

He pushed backwards in bed, grinding against the lump of Barnaby’s cock pressing against his ass through Barnaby’s boxers, and heard Barnaby let out a low groan in response. (By now Kotetsu had to compensate only slightly for the water bed dynamics.) Kotetsu twisted his head around, mouth half-open, and was met by Barnaby, who kissed him hard and wrapped an arm tight around Kotetsu’s waist. Barnaby rolled his hips lewdly against Kotetsu’s ass, grinding his dick slowly against Kotetsu, and the delicious pressure sent a rush of arousal and want right through him, drawing an answering moan out of Kotetsu. “What if we just stayed in bed all day?” Barnaby said into his mouth. “I don’t want to share you with anyone today.”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone but you today,” Kotetsu told him. As usual there came that blush of self-consciousness, embarrassment at saying something so ridiculous, but Kotetsu bit his lip to keep from trying to qualify or lessen the sentiment. Then something occurred to him, and he made a face. “Ugh, Bunny—!”

“What is it? Are you sore?” Barnaby’s probing hands paused for a moment, gentling.

“No, no, not that, it’s—” Kotetsu shivered, pushing harder against Barnaby, as if he could burrow into his lover to get away from the unpleasant memory that had popped into his head and was refusing to leave. “When that NEXT came to my apartment before you, I thought he was you, until you showed up. And—he kissed me.” Kotetsu swallowed, his throat suddenly thick with revulsion. He almost thought he shouldn’t tell Barnaby any of this, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “He wanted to kill you and take your place. That’s what he said. While he was pretending to be you…”

Barnaby didn’t say anything for a minute. “So it wasn’t just a ploy to divide us,” he said at length. “It really was you he was after.”

“I dunno,” said Kotetsu. He felt unsteady, made reckless by the early hour and his nudity and his want. “Pretty sure he was so obsessed with you he wanted to _be_ you.”

“This isn’t a competition,” said Barnaby severely.

“Good, because I don’t want to win it,” Kotetsu said. Barnaby kissed him by way of answer, which Kotetsu was totally fine with. He wriggled around until he was on his back and could pull Barnaby against him and on top of him, wrapping an arm around Barnaby’s muscular shoulders and bringing him in close, the better to kiss him until they were both breathless and had to break away. 

Barnaby grasped Kotetsu’s face in both hands, pressing their temples together for a moment as he rocked his hips down against Kotetsu’s, dragging a ragged moan out of Kotetsu. Then he started working his way down Kotetsu’s body, kissing hotly over his throat and collarbone. “We’re not leaving the house today,” he breathed, between feverish kisses that were more than half teeth. “We’ll order food in…”

He murmured something else, but Kotetsu lost track of what he was saying, too distracted by the next bite, this time at his nipple. Kotetsu yelped, his toes curling as he shoved a foot against the mattress, panting needfully as Barnaby scraped his tongue and teeth over Kotetsu’s damp skin. Kotetsu peered down at Barnaby, who was working his way down Kotetsu’s abdomen, sliding his hands along Kotetsu’s flanks and across his stomach and its tracery of faint scars. Despite his impressive constitution and the Hundred Power’s ability to help him heal faster, a career of Hero work meant Kotetsu had more than his fair share of scars to show for it. Now Barnaby took his time tracing over what seemed like every last one, chasing the lines with his tongue while his hand dipped between Kotetsu’s spread thighs, toying with his erection, taking Kotetsu in hand and stroking him teasingly. 

“Bunny, please…” It came out as little better than whining. Barnaby paused, smirking; looking down at him, Kotetsu felt his breath catch at the sight. His gorgeous green eyes dark with lust, his sleep-mussed damp hair falling in his face, Barnaby looked like a young god, ready to enjoy the offering in his bed. A little voice inside Kotetsu’s head took this opportunity to wonder, again, just how and why someone as amazing as Barnaby could be interested in a middle-aged Hero in the twilight of his career, but the doubt had no legs to stand on anymore, no weight behind its fear. 

“After everything you’ve put me through, I think it’s fair to make you sweat a little,” purred Barnaby. “Don’t you think?”

Kotetsu groaned, spreading his thighs wider in wanton invitation. “Barnabyyyyyyyyy…”

“I’m going to make you beg me,” Barnaby said darkly, squeezing Kotetsu’s cock in his hand for emphasis. “I want to take you apart until you can’t say anything but my name.”

“Don’t be so hard on an old man—!”

“Don’t try that line with me! You like it when I’m hard on you!” Saying so, Barnaby kneeled up now, and with a sudden movement that made Kotetsu gasp in shock, he put his arms around Kotetsu’s thighs and hauled him closer, pulling Kotetsu’s ass up so that his backside was against Barnaby’s chest, the remainder of Kotetsu’s weight abruptly resting on his upper back and shoulders. Barnaby wrapped his arms around Kotetsu’s hips, helping to support his weight and keep him from flopping back onto the bed. Kotetsu’s thighs were splayed wide, his ass and his genitals on display. 

“Barnaby!” yelped Kotetsu in shock. He threw an arm across his face, trying to close his legs so that he wasn’t quite so fucking _exposed_ , but Barnaby’s arms held him fast. “What are you doing?”

“Having breakfast,” Barnaby said smugly. To demonstrate, he licked a flat stripe up the inside of Kotetsu’s thighs, along his perineum to the back of his ball sac. Kotetsu let out a piteous noise, clenching up his lower half, his thigh and ass muscles twitching sensitively.

But Barnaby gave him no time to recover. He pulled Kotetsu’s thighs a little further apart, opening him up even more, and then buried his face against Kotetsu’s twitching asshole, licking and sucking at all the sensitive skin there. Kotetsu gave up all pretense of self-control, sobbing and gasping open-mouthed against his forearm as Barnaby pushed his tongue into Kotetsu’s ass, holding him up all the while. One of Barnaby’s hands reached up between Kotetsu’s spread and trembling thighs to wrap around Kotetsu’s cock again, stroking him tormentingly slow as he made lewd, sloppy noises against his ass.

Kotetsu found himself a trembling, gasping mess, unable to rip his gaze away from the glimpse of Barnaby’s face he could see between his own spread thighs. Barnaby’s tongue in his ass was the filthiest thing he’d ever felt, dirty and exquisitely obscene; Kotetsu could feel spit slowly dripping down the crack of his ass, Barnaby’s saliva coating his hole and the taut skin around it. Barnaby groaned against Kotetsu’s hole, the vibration spreading up and through the flesh and muscle there, and Kotetsu let out a strangled moan, his cock throbbing in Barnaby’s hand as Barnaby worked him open. 

“I love the way you taste, Kotetsu,” Barnaby purred, lifting his head for a moment to speak. He sounded a little breathless, but filthier and hotter was the sheen of his own spit smeared around his mouth from how hard he’d been working at eating Kotetsu’s ass. Kotetsu let out another groan, the noise pure shock and desperation, his hips lifting a little instinctively. Barnaby laughed. “What’s wrong? Did you forget how to talk?”

“The charming hero shouldn’t be so dirty,” Kotetsu whispered, because his brain had taken a leave of absence and the autopilot was all that was left. Barnaby responded with another throaty chuckle before lowering his head again. Kotetsu gasped and jumped a little as he felt a finger pressing against his asshole now too, pushing against the spit-slicked muscle, seeking entrance. 

Five minutes and two fingers later, the trembling in Kotetsu’s back and thighs had gotten worse, and not just because Barnaby was tormenting him shamefully. Being in this position—with his ass in the air and all his weight on his shoulders and upper back—was starting to put a strain on him. “Bunny,” Kotetsu whined, squirming against the fingers in his ass.

Barnaby must have been able to read the tone of his voice, though, because that was all Kotetsu had to say. “Hold on, darling,” he said, and carefully edged backwards, letting Kotetsu down slowly. He kept a hand at the small of Kotetsu’s back, helping to guide him down and not just dropping him onto the mattress. Kotetsu unfolded his legs with a groan, arching his back to let out the kink that had started to build there. Barnaby knelt over him, crawling up Kotetsu’s body and nuzzling his throat. But when he leaned up to kiss Kotetsu, Kotetsu raised his hand instinctively, blocking his lover’s lips. 

“Hey, what—”

“Don’t kiss me!” Kotetsu exclaimed. “You just had your tongue in my butt!”

Barnaby honest-to-God huffed, glaring at him impatiently. “Pretty sure you thought that felt good,” he said darkly.

“Of course it did! But I didn’t ask you to do it, either! It’s dirty!” 

Barnaby narrowed his eyes. “You’re so ridiculous,” he said, exasperated. 

“You knew that already,” Kotetsu told him, pushing Barnaby off him enough to sit up; Barnaby’s expression flickered. “You’re also a prissy little brat about almost everything, so I don’t know why you’re suddenly not a prude right now, but—”

“You’re different,” Barnaby said. He still sounded put out, but he let Kotetsu turn them around, so that it was Barnaby with his back to the head of the bed and thighs spread open, Kotetsu settling on his stomach between his lover’s thighs. Kotetsu felt his lover’s fingers card through his hair, and he paused, glancing up at Barnaby, one hand around wrapped around his lover’s stiff cock. Barnaby stroked the hair out of Kotetsu’s face, and made a little moue of mixed affection and exasperation at him. “I want everything you have. Even if you think it’s gross or weird.”

“I keep telling you that I’m a silly old man,” Kotetsu said wryly. He kissed the tip of Barnaby’s cock, watching with approval as Barnaby shuddered appreciatively at the attention. “You’d think you would have realized I’m not kidding by now.” 

“I kept telling _myself_ that when I—ah!” Barnaby sucked in a breath as Kotetsu took the head of Barnaby’s cock into his mouth; Kotetsu shut his eyes, focusing on the hand cradling the back of his skull. “When… when I first realized how I felt about you. But it didn’t make any difference.”

Kotetsu started to bob his head, slowly taking more of Barnaby into his mouth, making an interrogative noise around the thick head as it pushed against the back of his throat. Barnaby swore under his breath, and then Kotetsu felt pressure at the back of his skull, encouraging Kotetsu to go deeper, swallow more of him down. Kotetsu obliged, and soon enough he had a steady rhythm set up, his head bobbing up and down on Barnaby’s prick, swallowing him almost down to the base before reversing direction again. 

Barnaby kept talking as Kotetsu sucked him, his voice low and private. It wasn’t all dirty talk, but with the tone of Barnaby’s voice and the possessive way he kept stroking the back of Kotetsu’s head, it might as well have been. It served to have the same effect on Kotetsu, whose own erection had not flagged and wouldn’t be going down anytime soon, not with the heady taste of his lover’s sex in his mouth. Barnaby told Kotetsu when it was that he’d realized that he’d fallen in love with his partner—the New Year’s Day during their separation and retirement. He told Kotetsu how he’d wake up every morning dreaming about having sex with his absent partner, about all the different ways he’d wanted to fuck Kotetsu—and how many times he planned to show up at Kotetsu’s family’s house in Oriental Town to declare his feelings and ask Kotetsu to be with him.

This last piece of information made Kotetsu break off what he was doing, wiping his mouth and sitting up. “It’s been that long?” he demanded. “And you never said anything?”

Barnaby raised an eyebrow at him. “What was I supposed to do? Show up at your family’s house out of the blue and announce my intentions? I didn’t even think you liked men.” He reached out with both hands, pulling Kotetsu towards him and helping him to straddle Barnaby’s lap. Kotetsu knelt up so that Barnaby could reach over to the bedside table and grab the tube of lubricant, his other hand still resting proprietarily at the small of Kotetsu’s back. 

It was Kotetsu’s turn to make a pissy face. “I still think—”

Barnaby cut him off, covering Kotetsu’s mouth with his palm and kissing the back of his own hand, his eyes sparkling. The fingers of his other hand pressed against Kotetsu’s still-sensitive hole, slicking him thoroughly. “Save it,” Barnaby murmured. “You’re mine now, and I won’t let you go.”

Kotetsu felt his face go red at that, and he kissed Barnaby’s palm, somewhere between contrite and pleased. “Just take care you don’t break me,” he muttered, not really caring if Barnaby could hear him or not. Barnaby smiled, removing his hand and settling it at Kotetsu’s hip, using the other to slick his own cock, and then gently pushed Kotetsu’s hips down, helping guide him down onto his dick. Kotetsu’s breath caught in his throat, his eyeballs rolling as the bulbous head of Barnaby’s cock split him open. His head fell back and his mouth opened in a bitten-off little cry. As if in response to the throat suddenly bared for him, he felt Barnaby’s mouth against his neck, teeth scraping over the sensitive skin at the base of his throat before biting down firmly. 

“Barnaby!” Kotetsu shuddered, clenching around Barnaby’s cock. He heard Barnaby groan in response, and then Barnaby thrust up into his ass, burying his cock completely inside Kotetsu, his fingers pressing firmly on Kotetsu’s hips. 

Kotetsu stayed there for a moment, catching his breath, and then they started to move. He came embarrassingly fast, the prior teasing having pushed him nearly to the edge, clenching up around Barnaby after perhaps two minutes and coming with a choked-off cry. Barnaby held him close, breathing harshly against his ear as Kotetsu shuddered through his orgasm. Before Kotetsu even had a chance to apologize or insist they continue, Barnaby was shifting position—easing Kotetsu down onto his back, his legs and hips pulled up so that he was still mostly astride Barnaby’s thighs, Barnaby’s hands settling possessively atop Kotetsu’s thighs. 

He paused for only a moment, settling onto his own haunches and adjusting position before he resumed thrusting. Kotetsu let out another hoarse cry, shocked out of him at how deep the angle was, how laid open and bare this position made him feel. Barnaby’s cock felt impossibly huge, pushing insistently against that most sensitive spot inside him, now made all the more sensitive by the orgasm he just had. By the third thrust Kotetsu was clawing at the bedsheets, gasping as over-sensitive nerve endings lit up like Sternbild at night. 

“Barnaby, ahh, ahh—!”

“That’s right,” breathed Barnaby, in a voice so hoarse with lust that Kotetsu could hardly recognize it. “I bet I can make you come again, Kotetsu, wanna try?” Kotetsu groaned. 

He sort of lost track of time after that. Barnaby seemed hell-bent on working him over to the point where he really was good for nothing else that day, and covering him in bite-marks, to boot. Kotetsu wondered feverishly what Agnes and Lloyd would say about all the hickeys, then decided that he really didn’t care. They changed position several times, pausing for a breather twice—the first time because a wobbly-legged Kotetsu fell clean off the gently undulating waterbed while attempting to climb off Barnaby, and the second time because Barnaby wanted to get them both a bottle of water. 

(Barnaby kissed him during this second break, which Kotetsu submitted to without even thinking. He broke away to catch his breath, wrinkling his nose at his partner. “Your mouth still tastes weird,” he complained. 

“It tastes like you,” Barnaby informed him, and bit lightly at his throat. Kotetsu decided against complaining again.)

He wasn’t complaining now. Kotetsu was braced on hands and knees on the bed, Barnaby behind him, his voice rough and fingernails digging hard into Kotetsu’s hips as he fucked Kotetsu steadily harder. Despite how desperately over-stimulated he was, Kotetsu could feel himself building towards another climax, and the intensity was making his legs shake and his breathing come in ragged, shredded gasps. “Barnaby,” he managed, “I’m—I’m close—”

“Me too,” said Barnaby, voice harsh. “Are you going to come on my cock for me again, Kotetsu? I want t—to feel you!”

Kotetsu’s response was a ragged sob. He went down to his elbows as Barnaby slammed home again, burying himself to the hilt in Kotetsu’s ass and driving up right against Kotetsu’s prostate, sparking another burst of fireworks behind Kotetsu’s eyes. Kotetsu could feel his thrusts coming faster, hear the way Barnaby’s breathing was getting ragged, and bit his lip as he tried to push back into his lover’s thrusts. Barnaby let out a choked cry, his hips stuttering for a moment; Kotetsu felt a flush of heat inside him and knew that his lover had come. But then Barnaby resumed thrusting again a moment later, and even though it took him a few addled seconds, Kotetsu realized he already knew why. 

But he wasn’t sure if he was going to finish round two without some help. Kotetsu panted, his arms trembling as he fought to hold himself up; he wanted to reach down and start stroking himself, but he didn’t trust himself not to collapse if he tried to hold himself up using just one hand. “Barnaby, please touch me, please I’m c-close,” he babbled. 

“I’m here, Kotetsu. Here…” Barnaby paused for a moment, and Kotetsu felt him shift. Barnaby pressed forward, his chest against Kotetsu’s back, one arm coming down to press alongside Kotetsu’s, Barnaby’s breath hot against his ear. Kotetsu groaned as the angle shifted, the pressure a little different. Barnaby ground into his ass, pushing relentlessly against his prostate, making Kotetsu shudder and moan and cant his hips backwards like he was in heat. Barnaby growled into his ear, scraping his teeth against Kotetsu’s neck. 

Then Barnaby’s hand slipped between Kotetsu’s thighs, grasping his aching, heavy cock and stroking in time with his thrusts. Kotetsu cried out, hips jerking, pushing into Barnaby’s hand. “You feel so good,” Barnaby whispered into his ear, his hips still grinding against Kotetsu’s ass, his cock still buried to the hilt. Kotetsu thrust once, twice, and then came apart, clenching hard around Barnaby’s cock. Barnaby’s hips kept moving, milking Kotetsu with his hand on Kotetsu’s cock. The orgasm washed through him like a wall of water, and for a few seconds he thought he was going to black out, but then it was over and he crumpled to the bed, gasping for air. 

Barnaby kissed his temple, curling around him and on top of him for a few moments—probably catching his own breath, Kotetsu thought vaguely. Kotetsu winced slightly as Barnaby pulled out before immediately re-settling against Kotetsu’s flank; they had stopped using condoms a few weeks ago, and he didn’t miss it. Kotetsu lets his eyes shut, not caring that they’d made a mess and the bed would need changing before they went to sleep again that night. 

“Need a nap, old man?” Barnaby murmured. Kotetsu elbowed him in the stomach. “Ah! So cranky…”

“Rude,” Kotetsu mumbled. Barnaby laughed and then finally managed to push himself up off Kotetsu, rolling off the side of the bed. Kotetsu felt the bed dip and then rise as he got up; moments later there was the sound of water running in the bathroom, and thirty seconds later Barnaby returned. Kotetsu rolled onto his side, watching as his lover bent over him with a wet washcloth, tenderly cleaning him up. 

He waited until Barnaby was bent over his chest before he summoned some hidden reserve of strength, reaching up to catch the back of Barnaby’s head. He tugged Barnaby down towards him, and Barnaby obliged him with a kiss, which Kotetsu accepted gladly, bad breath and all. They broke away when Barnaby settled onto the bed next to Kotetsu again, lifting Kotetsu’s head to rest it in his lap. 

“I love you,” Kotetsu murmured, letting his eyes slide shut. He felt Barnaby’s fingers in his hair, tenderly rubbing a spot at Kotetsu’s temple where his headaches always seemed to gather. 

“I love you, too, Kotetsu,” Barnaby said softly. They said nothing more for several minutes. Kotetsu did not quite doze off again, but he wasn’t particularly verbal, either, content to lay with his head in Barnaby’s lap as Barnaby abandoned the washcloth altogether in favor of stroking one hand along Kotetsu’s arm and flank, the other still idly playing with Kotetsu’s hair. 

“You should forget about finding a new apartment,” Barnaby said presently. “Just stay moved in with me.”

Kotetsu made a noise that could have been either contentment or amusement. He turned his head slightly, looking up at Barnaby. In the soft morning light, he thought again how much like a young god Barnaby looked, with his flaxen hair sticking to his scalp and neck, his brilliant green eyes fixed on Kotetsu. Kotetsu’s thoughts drifted from thought to thought, touching on each with a feather-light brush of his mind before moving on: what they would tell Agnes and Lloyd; what would change about their relationship and what wouldn’t; all the questions about Enigma whose answers still didn’t sit right with Kotetsu. 

But all of that could wait, he decided. It wasn’t as important as the man gazing down at him, his expression both earnest and maybe a little apprehensive, though anyone who didn’t know Barnaby as well as Kotetsu did would never notice the latter. “I’m not sharing an apartment with you permanently until we really are married,” said Kotetsu with a lop-sided smile. 

Barnaby blinked, then slowly smiled back at him. “Noted,” was all he said. “Well then. What would you like for breakfast, Kotetsu?”

“Mmmm…. Tamagoyaki! And bacon,” Kotetsu added, his grin widening.

“So demanding,” Barnaby noted, still stroking Kotetsu’s hair. “But I will pass this test, Tiger-san. Tamagoyaki it is.” 

“And maybe brush your teeth,” Kotetsu added. It earned him a swat on his bare ass, and he yelped, but not without noticing Barnaby’s grin. 

They still had a lot to talk about, a lot of adjustment yet to come. No relationship was always a walk in the park, and they couldn’t know what darkness still lay in store. But Kotetsu knew that whatever was to come would be that much easier now that he and Barnaby could face it together. The two of them had already weathered so much together—a year separated, deception and lies being used against them to drive them apart, the infirmities of age and insecurity—and yet here they were, together. 

It was enough—more than enough. It was all he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who are paying attention may have noticed that the chapter count now says "9/10" instead of "9/9." Check back in a few days for one last post-credits surprise, as it were!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-credits scene, featuring guest art!

“It’s raining.”

“Eh?” Kotetsu looked up. There was something in Barnaby’s voice that caught his attention and dragged it away from the newspaper article he was reading. Barnaby was standing at the window, gazing out at the steady patter of the rain as though the secrets of the universe were standing outside on the pavement. “It’s been raining for two hours,” Kotetsu pointed out. 

“There’s a rainbow,” Barnaby said, and glanced meaningfully at Kotetsu. 

Kotetsu got up, obediently shuffling over to peer out the window. He absently fiddled with the new ring on his left hand, the slim, elegant one with a single green stone that his fiance had given him recently. “Oh!” There _was_ a rainbow. More than that, it was huge—it seemed to stretch over half of Sternbild, ephemeral and glorious. 

“It’s beautiful,” Kotetsu said. Then he got an idea. “Hey, Barnaby, come with me for a second.”

Barnaby raised an eyebrow at him, but Kotetsu just grabbed his hand and headed for the front door. Kotetsu led him out into the rain, walking halfway down the front steps to where they could get a good view of the rainbow, still in the protected front courtyard of the apartment complex Barnaby lived in. There he stopped, turning to face his partner, whose expression had curdled somewhat, Barnaby’s nose wrinkling in distaste as the steady rain started to flatten his hair and dampen his sweater. “Kotetsu,” he began.

“Kiss me,” Kotetsu said. 

Barnaby stared at him through glasses streaked with rain. “What?”

Kotetsu smiled, feeling how stupid the expression sat on his lips, the helpless smile he knew he always got when he was trying to do something romantic. “You can check it off the list,” he said.

Barnaby’s eyebrow quirked. After a moment, a small smile appeared. He took off his glasses, tucking them into his shirt pocket. Taking a step closer, he settled his hands at Kotetsu’s hips. “In that case…” He leaned in and pressed his mouth to Kotetsu’s, sucking briefly at Kotetsu’s lower lip, chasing a drop of rain. 

It lasted approximately five seconds before a deafening clap of thunder boomed overhead. Kotetsu jumped, grabbing for Barnaby’s arms as he jerked backwards. Barnaby was already laughing, holding on to Kotetsu to keep him from toppling backwards and cracking his skull open on the wet stone steps. “Careful!”

“Is it romantic yet?”

“Not sure,” murmured Barnaby. “Better try again.” He pulled Kotetsu close again, resuming their kiss, one hand cradling the back of Kotetsu’s head. Kotetsu slipped his arm around Barnaby’s neck, trying not to think about who might see them outside like this, and ultimately decided that it wasn’t worth caring about. They kissed for a little longer this time before water streaming down Kotetsu’s face started to get into his eyes, and he pulled back, sputtering and laughing. 

“Definitely romantic,” said Barnaby with a sly smile. Kotetsu dug a thumb into his side, and Barnaby twisted away with a small yelp. 

“One more try,” said Kotetsu. He pulled Barnaby close again, tilting his face a little; after a moment Barnaby’s hand came up to cup Kotetsu’s cheek. This time it was Barnaby who pulled back, pushing his wet hair out of his face with a roll of his eyes. “No dice, huh?” 

Barnaby gave him a look, an expression ruined somewhat by the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “If this was to prove you were right about what’s romantic and what isn’t, I believed you the first time,” he said.

“Nah,” said Kotetsu. “I wanted to try it too.”

“Dare I ask why?”

Kotetsu hesitated a moment, turning the words over in his head. “Lately I’ve just been—wanting to try things even when I thought I knew how I felt about them,” he said finally. “You, uh. You have this habit of proving me wrong.”

Barnaby did not respond to this. He merely smiled, his eyes very bright despite the rainy day. This time, when he pulled Kotetsu close again and kissed him, Kotetsu had no trouble at all shutting his eyes and ignoring the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful art courtesy of the lovely [Syqitten](http://syqitten.tumblr.com/post/136167499022/a-commission-for-feels-like-fire-because-she-gets) on tumblr - that link takes you to her page, where you can reblog the art at her tumblr! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the post-credits scene.


End file.
